


As the World Caves In

by feralratdad



Series: the other side of paradise [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dream Smp, Gen, Post Election, Quackity and Tubbo team up, Tommy is going through it, Traitor Toby Smith | Tubbo, Wilbur goes insane, some good old minecraft angst, the Tubbo and Quackity friendship we deserve, traitor Quackity, villain Tubbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralratdad/pseuds/feralratdad
Summary: This was what he'd been so jealous of? Tubbo sounds so completely defeated, his eyes full of exhaustion beyond belief and the dark bags beneath them hanging heavy. And in that moment, Quackity thinks they're one and the same. They both have nothing, despite their appearances. Disposable. Is that it? Is that why they do the things they do, serve the people they serve? Because it's better than nothing?"Are you going to turn me in, then?" Tubbo mumbles, curling in on himself a bit. "At least maybe then... Tommy'll know. Maybe he'll let me..." he trails off, the thought left unfinished."Spy for me," Quackity blurts out.---Tired of constantly being overlooked, unappreciated, and degraded, the Vice President and Schlatt's right hand form an unexpected alliance.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Quackity & Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: the other side of paradise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010454
Comments: 543
Kudos: 1486





	1. the grass is always greener

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO I am hyperfixating on the Dream SMP so hard right now and I'm absolutely obsessed with the idea of a Quackity and Tubbo teamup so I decided to write a fic. I just think there's so much untapped potential there so I'm going to- well, er, tap into it.
> 
> So have whatever this is going to be, and enjoy! As always, comments are very appreciated. Have a good one! <3

The sun sets over Manberg the same as it always does, basking the buildings and homes with its dying rays. It just pisses Quackity off, honestly. The way the rest of the world keeps turning when it feels to him like the world has ended.

Footsteps rushed and polished shoes barely making a sound, he hurries across the wooden walkways. He straightens his tie, straightens his beanie, straightens his shirt collar. He straightens his feet as he nearly stumbles off the path. The citizens of Manberg avert their eyes as he passes by, maybe out of fear and maybe out of distaste. Quackity isn't sure which one he'd prefer. But they aren't his concern right now- making it on time to the last meeting of the day is.

The white house comes into view, standing tall and proud amidst the country it overlooks. Grass crunches beneath him as he climbs the hill, pausing at the top only to check his reflection in one of the mirrors. He licks his thumb, wipes a smudge of dirt off his cheek, then pushes open the door and strides in.

President Schlatt is waiting in the office, as is Tubbo, looking out of place as he always did. That kid didn't belong in a room like this, with perfectly ironed suits and perfectly straight ties and perfectly shined shoes. Quackity would never be able to wrap his head around why one of Manberg's revolutionaries was trusted more than the man who had given Schlatt his votes. But Quackity had quickly learned during his time in Schlatt's cabinet how little the president really cared for his vice, and just how expendable he really was.

"Ah, Quackity, you've finally decided to join us," Schlatt says, amusement in his dark tone. "Do you need a new watch? I'd be happy to provide you with one."

"Sorry, sir," Quackity grits out, clasping his hands behind his back and preparing himself for another one of these awful cabinet meetings.

"Alright, let's begin," the president clears his throat, folding his hands on his desk. "Any updates on our country, gentlemen?"

"No, sir," Quackity says.

Tubbo shakes his head.

"Well, how about the fact that Tommy Innit has been roaming our lands free to his liking?" Schlatt's eyebrows raise. "Despite being, you know, banished and exiled?"

Quackity is stunned into silence, unsure how to respond in a way that won't end with the wrath of the president falling onto his shoulders. Luckily, Tubbo speaks up.

"We aren't... serious about that, though, right?" the secretary of state frowns, messing with the sleeve of his suit. "It's all just good fun. Tommy isn't harming anyone by stopping by every once in a while..."

"We aren't serious?" Schlatt echoes, glancing at Quackity with disbelief in his eyes. With that, he starts to laugh. "Do you hear this guy? Aw, man, Tubbo, you really are a riot. Here, lemme tell you something." He leans forward across the desk, beckoning the kid closer with his fingers. 

Tubbo hesitates, then takes a cautious step toward him. "Yes, Schlatt?"

"When I make an order, you  _ obey _ it," the president says. His voice is casual, as if he's just having a conversation with a friend. But Quackity recognizes the underlying threat in the words, and he's sure Tubbo does too. "We don't joke around here, Tubbo. So if I say I don't want Tommy Innit or any of his revolutionary friends on my land, you know what you should do? You don't let them on my land. It's simple as that!"

Tubbo winces a bit, but he gives a nod. "I understand."

"Great! So we really shouldn't have a problem." Schlatt leans back in his chair, casting his eyes over Quackity once more. "How about you, VP? Big Q? What's up?"

"Nothing much, sir," Quackity answers, straightening his posture under the president's scrutiny. "Just having a fat ass, you know?"

"Mhmm," Schlatt replies, as if he wasn't even paying attention. "So what's your excuse, then? Why've you been letting our enemy on our land?"

"...well, it's not that I've been  _ letting _ him," he cringes a bit.

"Okay, so Tommy Innit and Technoblade just... happened to wander into the heart of Manberg? And help you breed dogs?" Schlatt tilts his head to one sight, eyes gleaming. "Sure, sure, I understand. Happens to the best of us."

Great, of course the whole dog drug cartel thing would blow up in his face like this. "Well-"

"Well what? I'm waiting."

"...well..."

"Um, I was a part of that too!" Tubbo interjects, eyes widened slightly. "Quackity wasn't super happy about it... But I thought we should let Techno around just to give him some socialization, y'know? And then Tommy showed up, and we were all just messing around a bunch. It won't happen again, I promise!"

Quackity is taken aback by the kid's defense of him. Him and Tubbo had never really been anything more than acquaintances, just two members of Schlatt's cabinet. In fact, Quackity was almost even jealous of him at times, jealous of the way Schlatt kept him close. They definitely weren't on the 'taking Schlatt's wrath for each other' level. He tries to meet Tubbo's eyes, but he won't look at him, keeping his gaze fixed on the president.

"I see," Schlatt says simply after a long moment. "Well, if you say so."

A sigh of relief nearly escapes Quackity. Crisis averted... for now. "I'll be sure to increase border security," he adds in his own attempt to appease Schlatt.

"See to it you do," is all the president replies with. "And Quackity... Come on, really? I expect more from you. I don't tolerate mistakes around here. Don't give me a reason to remove you from this cabinet."

You don't tolerate  _ my _ mistakes, Quackity amends bitterly in his head. "Yessir," is what he says out loud.

"Well, that's all for now, unless anyone has anything to add." Schlatt rests his hands back on his desk in a dismissive gesture. "Goodnight, gentlemen."

Quackity starts for the door, as does the other boy.

"Oh, Tubbo?" the president adds.

Tubbo freezes in place, and Quackity pauses too, hand resting over the doorknob. "Yes, Schlatt?"

"Fraternizing with the enemy is really unbecoming. You're a member of my cabinet now, y'know?" Schlatt's tone is light and airy, but there's a glint of darkness to it. "Tommy Innit is a thing of the past. Remember whose side you’re on."

Quackity pushes the door open, unwilling to hear Tubbo's next affirming "yes, Schlatt."

It's dark outside, the sun finally having finished its descent. The distant sound of the night mobs reaches Quackity's ears as he walks back home, feet dragging across the moonlit path. He isn't a fool- he knows Schlatt can't wait for an excuse to knock him out of power. Even if it was Quackity's votes that put him into power in the first place, the vice president meant nothing in the end.

But Tubbo...

He knows Tubbo is only there as a jab at Tommy. A sort of 'fuck you, I have your best friend in my cabinet' gesture. The kid could make as many mistakes as he wanted to and Schlatt wouldn't care; he was far too valuable in what he represented. He was a testament to Schlatt's power over Tommy and the rest of Pogtopia. A testament of Schlatt's control. Tubbo was useful, and Quackity wasn't. It was as simple at that.

A sudden fury rising in him in a wave, Quackity kicks the ground, though the action only scuffs his shoes. He's worked so hard for this, worked so hard to rise to some form of power and have a place in the world. He'd sold his soul- and the souls of all of Manberg- to Schlatt just for a chance, and now all the man wanted was to rip it away from him. What the hell was he supposed to do then? He'd rather die than go back to how he used to be, powerless and nothing to the world.

No matter how much he despised Schlatt, there was nothing he wouldn't give to be him. Schlatt had everything he wanted: power, control, worth. A cabinet who would obey him without question. A country too scared to rebel.

But despite his best efforts, despite every shady deal and exchange, the stars never seemed to align for him. And as Quackity continues down the path, shoving his hands into his pockets, he wonders if they ever will.

*****

"Yes, Schlatt." "No, Schlatt." "Of course, Schlatt." The word 'Schlatt' is starting to sound meaningless to Tubbo, given the amount of times he's said it over the past few weeks.

He tugs off his suit jacket, tossing it onto his bed and collapsing beside it. With a small sigh, he rests his hands on his stomach and stares up at the ceiling. Another long day of running Schlatt's errands has left him exhausted, worn to the bone. Collect the taxes, Tubbo. Check on Niki, Tubbo. Iron my suit, Tubbo. Good job, Tubbo.

He supposes Schlatt thinks he's manipulating him. And maybe he is. Tubbo's never been very good at figuring that sort of thing out, but Tommy said so, and Tommy is usually right.

"You can't trust that guy, Tubbo," his friend had said during one of their weekly meetings. Tommy's leaning back against the trunk of a tree, his hands behind his head and eyes half closed. He seems tired. "He doesn't care about anyone beyond himself. He'll only keep you around as long as you're useful, I guarantee that."

That wasn't much different from how things usually were, so it didn't mean much to Tubbo. It had been the same with Wilbur as president, hadn't it? And it was the same as it was now. Tommy could talk about friendship all he wanted, but Tubbo wasn't stupid. He knew the pattern, and he knew if he had refused to spy for Pogtopia, Tommy would've cut him off too.

At least with Schlatt, it made sense. Schlatt had no reason to care about him. It wouldn't hurt Tubbo much if it turned out it really was just manipulation. It definitely hurt when it came to Tommy, though.

Fight this war, Tubbo. Dig this tunnel, Tubbo. Be a double agent for us, Tubbo. Good job, Tubbo.

It's all the same, and he's starting to get sick of it, but there's not much he can do. He'll never really truly matter- no one takes him seriously, not even Tommy. So what else can he do besides get trapped in the same cycle over and over again?

Tubbo releases another long exhale, closing his eyes. He should probably hang his suit up before it gets wrinkled. Schlatt wouldn't like that. But he's so tired, he can't summon the energy to sit up, so he stays pressed against the bedsheets, letting the silence of his room settle over him like a blanket.

His mind turns over the events of the meeting.  _ "Remember whose side you're on." _ Right, as if. He knew whose side he was on, and it definitely wasn't Schlatt's. He was Pogtopia's spy on the inside, and when Wilbur reclaimed his place as president, Tubbo would go back to doing... Well, whatever he had done before all this. Following Tommy around like a lost dog, probably. Letting his friend tease and boss him around. Falling asleep as the sun set over a restored L'manberg, rid of Schlatt and Quackity once and for all.

Quackity...

The vice president is the one person Tubbo feels like he can breathe easy around. Not because he trusts him, or because they're particularly close, but because Quackity treats him like a person. He still remembers the day of the election, Schlatt's sharp voice ordering him to tear down the signs.

Then Quackity intersects himself.  _ "I'll do it. I'll take the fall."  _

He's not blind; he knows how jealous Quackity is of him and his standing with Schlatt. But the vice had never treated him any less because of it. Mostly, he just left him alone to do his own thing. On the few occasions they spent together, Tubbo felt like an equal in status rather than anything less. Like the dog drug cartel. Or their meetings with Schlatt.

With a quiet groan, Tubbo finally sits up, rubbing his eyes. He really should get ready for bed now, unless he wants to be just as exhausted in the morning. He's got his meeting with Tommy and Wilbur tomorrow, which means another late night.

He goes through the motions in a blur, folding his suit neatly for tomorrow and brushing his teeth before crawling under the covers, head sinking into the pillow. Weariness drags at his limbs and eyelids, pulling him almost immediately into a deep slumber.

At first, after the election, sleep didn't come easy. The anxiety about Schlatt and his new role in the cabinet, alongside his position as a spy for Tommy, kept him awake at night, tossing and turning and wishing for the nightmare to end. Nowadays, though, he just feels numb, numb enough that he can push aside his worries till the next day. Sleep is one of the few times he has all to himself, after all, with no Schlatt or Tommy ordering him around- he doesn't want to waste it.

Meetings, chores, and elections all fade blissfully away as he dozes off, letting sleep claim him if only for a few hours before his duties resume bright and early.


	2. two to keep a secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo meets with Tommy. Someone finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my minecraft youtuber fic and I get to update it as many times as I want <3
> 
> (feel like it goes without saying, but this is obviously not meant to represent the real people, just the characters they're playing!!)

Tubbo hugs his suit jacket a bit tighter around himself as he crosses the border of Manberg, the chilly night air sinking in. It's been another long day, and now under the cover of night, he's snuck out on his way to meet with Tommy and Wilbur and update them on the inner workings of Schlatt's new world.

There's nothing he'd rather be doing right now than passing out in bed, worn from the day's work, but he can't let Tommy down, so he trudges onward toward their meeting spot.

Tubbo doesn't actually know where Pogtopia itself is. Tommy says it's because Wilbur doesn't trust him, which stings a bit. Even after all they'd gone through together, Wilbur so easily cast him aside. _"Don't worry about it, though,"_ Tommy reassured him. _"It's really nothing personal."_

All Tubbo can think about it is that they're more ready to use him for their dirty work than let him on their side.

The moon lights his path, well worn from the times he's travelled it before. The wind whispers in his ears, stinging them with its icy fingers. He hunches his shoulders and grits his teeth against it, wishing the weather would at least cooperate a bit.

Before he knows it, he's reached the large oak tree deemed by Tommy as their meeting spot. A figure stands out against the night, and as he draws closer, he sees it's Tommy, who waves enthusiastically as he approaches. Tubbo doesn't have the energy to return it.

"Tubbo! Hey-o," Tommy says enthusiastically, immediately plopping down beside the tree once Tubbo reaches him. He takes a seat beside him, perching himself on one of the large roots, trying to ignore his aching legs.

"What's good, big man?" Tommy continues, seeming unfazed by the lack of reply. "Come on, it's been forever."

"It's only been a week," Tubbo mumbles, though he gives a small smile. "Not much, just tired. Long day."

"Schlatt's keeping you busy, huh?" Tommy wrinkles his nose. "What an asshole."

Tubbo doesn't have the heart to tell him it isn't much different from when Wilbur was in charge. "What's new with you?" he asks, shifting on the root.

"Ah, nothing much. Techno's been gathering supplies." Tommy fiddles with a blade of grass, curling it around his finger. "Pogtopia's doing pretty good for itself."

Tubbo gives a silent nod. Glancing around the clearing, he then asks, "Where's Wilbur? Is he coming?"

Tommy pauses, hand going still. "Er, he decided to stay back tonight."

"Oh."

"Nothing personal," his friend adds. "He's just tired."

"Yeah, me too," Tubbo replies, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone.

"Well, hey now." Tommy frowns deeply. "No need to get all snippy. We're all making sacrifices here, just remember what it's for. L'manberg! We'll be home soon enough, Tubbo. Then things can go back to normal."

Back to normal... _That won't change much for me,_ Tubbo thinks, fiddling with his tie.

Tommy tracks the movement, eyes briefly glancing over him. "Why'd ya have to wear that thing here anyways?" He reaches over, swatting Tubbo's hands away and giving the tie a short yank. "C'mon, you're out here with me!"

"Right, sorry," Tubbo mutters. "I'll change before coming next time."

Silence settles over them like a dead weight. Then Tommy brightens and lightly punches his shoulder. "Hey, cheer up! This is your one night a week with me, yeah? Away from Schlatt and his stupid cabinet."

"Sorry," Tubbo says, resting his hands in his lap. "Just tired."

"So you've said," Tommy rolls his eyes. "Honestly, Tubbo, you're so much weirder these days. Can't you just be normal?"

"Gee, thanks."

"C'mon, man, I'm just trying to have a conversation. Let's talk about something! Got any deets on Schlatt?" Tommy leans forward, blue eyes bright.

"No," Tubbo answers shortly. He pauses, then adds, "Well, there's no more wandering around Manberg for you. We're enforcing border security. You shouldn't come back, Tommy."

"Oh, boohoo, I'm real scared," Tommy scoffs, waving a hand. "We all had fun the other day, even Big Q."

"Yeah, and that 'fun' nearly landed Quackity in a boatload of trouble," Tubbo returns, shaking his head. "Just... listen to the law. It's better for all of us that way. You're exiled, you shouldn't be acting like Manberg is still your home."

He realizes he's said the wrong thing when Tommy flinches back, eyes immediately narrowing. "It's L'manberg," his friend grits out. "And it is my home. That's why I'm gonna fight for it. Schlatt can say whatever he wants, but he's not gonna keep me out."

Tubbo knows he should apologize, knows he should reassure Tommy that he's right, but he's just so tired, he doesn't know anything anymore. "The world doesn't revolve around you, Tommy," is what he says. "There are people who stand to get hurt by your actions, so maybe get that through your head."

"What the hell?" Tommy exclaims, shooting to his feet in one smooth motion. "What's wrong with you?"

Tubbo cringes at the words, opening his mouth to defend his poor wording.

"Why're you talking like I'm the bad guy here?" Tommy demands, cutting him off and jabbing a finger in the direction of Manberg. "Schlatt's the villain, not me! And I'm fighting for all those people you just accused me of not caring about. I don't know what shit Schlatt is telling you, but maybe get your head out of your own ass and don't go turning on your only friend here!"

"Sorry," Tubbo whispers, hands curling into his fists. He feels his nails dig into his palms, feels the pain as they pinch the skin there. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

But it's not that easy to turn back. Once Tommy gets fired up about something, he can't calm down. He's too full of passion to use his head, and it's usually what lands him in the situations he ends up in. "Yeah, you should be sorry!" he snaps, glare intensifying. "Jesus, Tubbo, whose side are you on anyways?"

"Yours," Tubbo says, swallowing hard.

"Then maybe you shouldn't be shit talking me, then!"

"It was a poor choice of words," he grits out. "I'm sorry."

"Maybe we should just call it a night," Tommy mutters, folding his arms against his chest and looking away. "You can sleep on that."

Tubbo's head spins, thoughts racing in a flurry faster than he can keep track of. He feels sick, like he's on a rollercoaster hurtling toward the ground with no intention of stopping. "Well maybe if you actually acted like I was on your team, this would be much clearer!" he bursts out, heart pounding. "Am I on your team, Tommy? Because Wilbur doesn't seem to think so, and it feels like neither do you!"

"Where's this coming from all of a sudden?" Tommy cries, glancing back at him. "Of course you're on our side!"

"Then show me Pogtopia," Tubbo challenges, bile rising in his throat.

"I- I can't," Tommy stammers with a curt shake of his head. "You know Wilbur-"

"Since when do you wait for Wilbur's permission?"

"These are important matters, Tubbo-"

"And you think I can't handle it?" Tubbo rises to his feet too, trying to ignore the way his legs tremble. He's never stood up for himself like this before, and he's never seen Tommy so angry. Common sense tells him to back down, but he's so beyond common sense right now. "I'm spying on Schlatt for you! I'm risking my life!"

"Oh, congratulations!" Tommy scowls. "Do you want a medal? We're all putting our lives on the line!"

"I can't believe you'd trust _Techno_ sooner than me!" Tubbo exclaims. "How many times have I fought beside you? How many times have I come through for you?"

"You chose Schlatt over us!"

"We elected Schlatt! I didn't choose him."

"You're in his fucking cabinet, aren't you?"

"Do you trust me or not?!"

Tommy falls silent, looking down at his feet. "Jesus, Tubbo, I want to, but I can't right now."

The rush of adrenaline leaves Tubbo all at once, like a flame had been snuffed out. He shoves his hands into his pockets, a shiver crawling down his spine. "You're right. We should just call it a night."

"Tubbo-"

"Goodnight, Tommy."

He starts off before his friend can reply.

About five minutes into the journey back, he starts to cry. He hates himself for it, but he can't stop the tears from falling, blurring his vision and making the terrain swim before his eyes. Goddammit. When did everything become so wrong? He should go back and apologize to Tommy, but he doesn't want to. He shouldn't have to. He already apologized enough.

So why couldn't Tommy just get it? Why couldn't he see how horrible this was? Was it really so hard for him to say "I trust you, Tubbo, let me show you to Pogtopia"? Furiously, Tubbo wipes his sleeve across his eyes. He hadn't meant those things he said. He didn't think Tommy was a bad guy. Tommy was his friend.

Tommy was his friend.

Tommy didn't trust him.

His brisk pace causes him to reach Manberg quicker than usual. The lights of the city greet him, warm and welcoming, but they just make him feel worse. Empty, cold, alone. _"Don't go turning on your only friend here."_ Tommy was all he had, wasn't he? No matter how he felt, no matter how horrible this was, being alone would be worse. Without Tommy, he had nothing left in the world.

Just as he's resolving to turn back and do whatever it took to gain back Tommy's trust, Tubbo sees the figure leaning against a tree by the border, sunglasses lowered and dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

_Quackity_.

*****

Quackity doesn't know why he decided to visit Tubbo that night. Maybe he was lonely, or maybe he was just curious. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for it, because if he hadn't, he would've never seen Tubbo sneak out, looking both ways before hurrying off.

And maybe following your fellow cabinet member around at night was sort of creepy, but Quackity's gut says this is something important, and he trusts his gut. So when he watched Tubbo cross the border, he knew he'd been right. Schlatt's right hand was up to something, and if Quackity played his cards right, maybe he could find out what.

It's too dangerous to go wandering around in the dark, so instead, Quackity waits by the border, leaning against a tree. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he's determined to wait this out.

And then lo and behold, after maybe an hour or so, a figure takes shape in the darkness: Tubbo, trudging his way through the terrain and back toward the border. The kid stumbles to a halt a bit away, staring in at the bright city. For a moment, he stands half poised to turn back around, shifting slightly on his feet. Before he can make up his mind about his path, though, his head turns, and his eyes meet Quackity's.

He freezes, trapped like a deer in the headlights. His eyes are wide enough for the moon to swim through, reflecting the fear in them. It solidifies the fact that Quackity was already sure of: Tubbo wasn't just out on a late night walk.

"Heya, Tubbo," he calls, raising a hand. "Come in a lil closer, unless you want someone to hear me shouting at you all the way from here."

Tubbo doesn't move at first, glancing back over his shoulder, then he slowly makes his way over, dragging his feet. Quackity clicks his tongue, looking him up and down. "So, watcha doing up this late?"

"I-" Tubbo starts, a shuddering breath escaping him. His shoulders are stiff, his fists clenched at his side. "I was just-"

"Want me to guess? Will that make it easier?" Quackity shoves his hands into his pockets, tilting his head. "Out visiting your friends on the other side?"

The kid doesn't answer, so Quackity takes that as a yes. "Geez, you could at least try to lie..."

"What's the point?" Tubbo mutters, eyes downcast. "You sound like you knew anyway. How long...?"

"I saw you sneak off, so I decided it might be worth my time to wait." Quackity shrugs. "Sooo... where do we go from here, then? Was this just a friendly visit, or are you mayhaps something like a double agent?"

"Does it even matter how I answer that? I'm in trouble either way, aren't I?"

Time stops for a second, and Quackity runs through his options.

He could rat Tubbo out to Schlatt, he supposes. Snitches get stitches, but sometimes snitches get rewards. If he turns in a spy, maybe Schlatt will trust him more. Maybe it could solidify his standing with him.

Or he could just leave it. Use it as blackmail, hold this knowledge over Tubbo to gain some ground over him. Maybe it could prove useful somewhere in the future.

Neither of those options sound super appealing. He isn't stupid enough to think this would actually make Schlatt like him, and there's really nothing to be gained from blackmail. What does he do, then? This information was a bit of gold- it was the sort of big break he'd been waiting for. Surely he could make something of it.

"Why are you doing it?" Quackity surprises himself by asking.

Tubbo looks up at him, blinking like an owl. "Huh?"

"Why're you spying on Schlatt?" Quackity repeats with a small frown. "You have power here. You have status. Why would you throw it all away for those Pogtopia brats?"

"...I dunno," Tubbo replies quietly, hugging his arms against his chest. "Schlatt doesn't care about me, I don't really have anything with him. Wilbur doesn't trust me at all, he won't even tell me where their new base is. But at least with Tommy, I'm not alone. And that's better than nothing, I guess. It's all I'll ever get anyways."

_This_ was what he'd been so jealous of? Tubbo sounds so completely defeated, his eyes full of exhaustion beyond belief and the dark bags beneath them hanging heavy. And in that moment, Quackity thinks they're one and the same. They both have nothing, despite their appearances. _Disposable_. Is that it? Is that why they do the things they do, serve the people they serve? Because it's better than nothing?

"Are you going to turn me in, then?" Tubbo mumbles, curling in on himself a bit. "At least maybe then... Tommy'll know. Maybe he'll let me..." he trails off, the thought left unfinished.

"Spy for me," Quackity blurts out.

Tubbo flinches in surprise, eyes widening. "What?"

"Be a- I don't know. Triple agent." As the idea forms in his head, Quackity quickly becomes attached to it. "You spy on Schlatt and on Pogtopia for me, and when the time is right, we take out the both of them. We'll be in charge then, and we'll have whatever we want."

"W-what?" Tubbo repeats, taking a small step back. "I- why would I do that?"

"Well, no offense, but you don't sound super happy on Pogtopia's side," Quackity scoffs, setting a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from running. "And neither of us like Schlatt."

Tubbo gives a small gasp. "You don't...?"

"So let's form our own team," he continues. "Me and you. I'm tired of waiting around for Schlatt to get sick of me and kick me to the curb. I did _everything_ for him, and he doesn't even care! Let's take the office for ourselves, take Manberg for ourselves. No more Schlatts or Wilburs or Tommys. Just whatever the hell we want."

"W-what's all this stuff about 'we'..." Tubbo mutters, shrugging off his hand. "I'd just be your spy, right? And when it's all over, you cut me off. again"

"Are you joking? Is that what you think about Pogtopia?"

Tubbo doesn't answer, a horrified look crossing his features.

"I think you're smart, Tubbo," he carries on. "A lot smarter than people give you credit for. And I think you have a lot more to offer than Wilbur thinks. So me and you? We'd make a great team. With my fat ass and many redeeming qualities, and that dedication and hard work of yours, we'd be a force to be reckoned with."

"...so what?" Tubbo finally grits out. "I spy for you, or you'll turn me in?"

"I could blackmail you," Quackity admits with a casual shrug. "But why would I? That's pretty immature. And you know what? I think you're tired of being on the bottom, and I think you want to start climbing the ladder. I don't wanna be your boss, Tubbo. I wanna be your partner in this. So how about it?"

He extends his hand toward the other, an offering and a promise. Honestly, Quackity isn't sure if he'll accept. It's just as likely that Tubbo will go running off as it is that he'll agree to this crazy scheme. But Quackity hopes he does, hopes more than anything. This is a golden opportunity to gain a foothold over Schlatt, and things like that don't come along every day. And he recognizes the look in Tubbo's eyes; it's the same Quackity sees when he looks in the mirror. It's the look of someone who's tired of being used, of someone who has nothing left to lose.

"Partners," Tubbo says quietly. "...you promise?"

"We're in it together," Quackity replies. "This is it, man. This is all I have left."

"And how does this end? If I do this?"

"Hopefully, with Schlatt gone for good, and us at the top where we belong."

"And Pogtopia?"

"They can do whatever they like, but they're not taking this country back."

Tubbo falls silent, staring at Quackity's outstretched hand. Without another word, he reaches over and takes it, his palm warm against the other's. The wind and the moon bear witness, silent onlookers to the new alliance formed under the quiet darkness.

And Quackity can't help but grin.


	3. this horror will grow mild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt thinks he's stupid. He's anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy cow, thanks for all the love on this fic!!! you guys are absolutely amazing and you've made my day <3 I've definitely got big plans for this fic (as well as a few chapters already written) so hopefully you guys don't mind quick updates :P
> 
> as always, comments are very much appreciated!! ^-^ and this is meant to represent the characters they play, not the actual people.

The sun rises with gentle compassion, lightly shaking the citizens of Manberg from their slumber. Tubbo's eyelids feel glued shut together, heavy with sleep, but he forces himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed.

He wonders briefly how he even managed to fall asleep last night. Everything that had happened feels like a blur- was it even real? His fight with Tommy, his deal with Quackity...

The knot in his stomach tightens and twists, and he pushes himself to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes. No, that had definitely been real. In that moment, Quackity's hand outstretched enticingly, he had made his choice.  _ A triple agent,  _ he thinks bitterly, changing his sleepwear out for a crisp white button up and suit pants. Because Wilbur had cut him off; Pogtopia had cut him off. Schlatt didn't give a shit about him, and Tommy...

Well, it doesn't matter. Just as he'd been ready to resign himself to the same old fate of being tossed around until they'd grown bored of him, Quackity had appeared like an angel sent from God, except with a fatter ass and a drug addiction. And though Tubbo didn't trust him completely yet, he did trust in what he believed in, and that would have to be enough for now.

Besides... the way Quackity had spoken to him, so earnestly and as if he was an equal, made him feel a little less cold and alone.

Letting out a long exhale, he pulls on his suit jacket, straightening it out. As he ties his tie, he studies himself in the mirror, and he doesn't like what he sees. When had he become... this? The perfectly pressed suit, the neatly combed hair, the dull look in his eyes. Was this the Tubbo Tommy had seen last night? The Tubbo that Schlatt had created, or was he simply a product of months and months of mistreatment?

It doesn't matter. He's running late, anyways.

Careful not to wrinkle his suit, he jogs at a brisk pace for the White House, passing the stirring Manberg citizens. He's practically memorized the way by now, and his feet carry him there with little assistance. Pushing open the door, he staggers inside, straightening his tie and composing himself. Schlatt liked everything to be perfectly in order, and that included his cabinet members.

Reaching the door to the president's office, he sucks in a deep breath before knocking on the door.

"Tubbo? Is that you? Come in," Schlatt's voice calls from inside.

Tubbo's hand grips the doorknob, and he hesitates. What if he walks in there, and Schlatt has him arrested? What if Quackity told him about his meeting with Tommy? What if he somehow knew about their alliance? What if-

He pushes the door open.

Schlatt is seated at his desk, idly glancing over paperwork. He looks up as Tubbo enters, a wide grin immediately stretching across his face. "Ah, Tubbo! Come right over, have a seat. We've got a lot to discuss."

An uneasy feeling settles over Tubbo. Did he know, then? Or was this just Schlatt being Schlatt? Swallowing the lump in his throat, he settles himself into the chair on his side of Schlatt's desk, resting his fists on his knees.

"Aw, what's the matter?" Schlatt props his elbows on the desk, leaning forward. "You seem pretty down today, kid. Something on your mind?"

"Just didn't sleep that well," Tubbo lies.

"Well, that's no good." Schlatt frowns deeply. "Can't have my right hand unrested, can I?" He reaches over and sets a hand on Tubbo's head, lightly ruffling his hair. "Why don't you take the day off today?"

"The day off?" Tubbo asks suspiciously, ducking down a bit. "Umm... are you sure?"

"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't." Schlatt rolls his eyes with a short laugh. "Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo... What am I going to do about this?"

"...about what, Mr. President?"

"This. This cabinet." Schlatt gestures vaguely around the room. "We're falling apart, Tubbo! The people hate us, Quackity is incompetent, and I've got no one I can trust. So what do I do?"

"Why're you asking me?" he manages out, blinking in surprise.

"Because you're my right hand, Tubbo. If I can't trust you, who can I trust?"

Tubbo draws his legs up against his chest in a sort of protective stance. He half expects Schlatt to scold his posture, but the man simply watches him with gleaming eyes. "Well," he finally says, clearing his throat. "I'm not... real good with politics, Schlatt."

"Oh yeah?" the president raises his eyebrows, and Tubbo feels that somehow, he's said the wrong thing. "Here's what I think, Tubbo. I think it's about time you put that high position of yours to use and start really making some decisions around here."

Decisions...? "Like what?" he asks nervously.

"I guess that's up to you, isn't it?" Schlatt replies nonchalantly. "I think the people of Manberg like you a lot better than they like me, so maybe they'll feel a bit more cooperative with changes coming from you." He pauses, eyeing him scrutinizingly. "You do want to make this country better, don't you?"

"Yes, Schlatt," Tubbo replies readily.

"So, what do you think I should do?"

The question hangs in the air, and Tubbo turns it over in his head. Just be vague, he decides. Don't give him anything. "Well," he begins uncertainly, picking at a loose thread on his pants, "Maybe give the people some sense of... unity. Everyone seems a bit divided now, so..."

"Unity," Schlatt echoes, humming in acknowledgment. "Interesting, interesting. I like that. I like it a lot. Thank you, Tubbo." With that, the president turns back to his paperwork, a pointed dismissal.

Tubbo hesitates only a moment before fleeing from the office.

A day off... He hadn't had one of those in, well, forever really. Well, he can enjoy it later. He should find Quackity first, he thinks.

The Vice President's office is a bit more out of the way, the shining nameplate branding the dark wooden door. Tubbo had never been here before; he'd never had a reason to. Hesitating at the door, he wonders if he's even welcome here, or if this was a night operation sort of deal. Pushing aside his misgivings, he raises his fist and knocks sharply on the wood.

"Who's that?"

"Um, Tubbo."

"Oh, hey, come right in," Quackity's voice returns, so Tubbo pushes open the door.

The vice is laying across his desk, staring up at the ceiling and kicking his legs lazily back and forth. Tubbo is taken aback for a moment by how casual the setting is compared to Schlatt's pristine quarters, but then he figures this is normal for Quackity. The man in question raises a hand as he enters, sitting up and perching himself on the edge.

"Soooo," he begins. "You got something to say?"

"Oh." Tubbo breaks from his thoughts, quickly nodding his head. "Sorry. Um, I had a meeting with Schlatt."

"Yeah? And what went down there?"

"He thinks I'm stupid," Tubbo scowls, unable to keep the distaste from his tone. "Wants me to start making decisions... as if he's really going to just let me do whatever I want. He just..." he trails off, recalling Tommy's words. "Thinks he can manipulate me."

"Good, that's good," Quackity returns evenly, and Tubbo can't help but feel shocked. "Oh, hey now, don't look at me like that. This works in our favor! You gotta play into his expectations, y'know? If he thinks you're stupid, then be stupid. If he thinks he can manipulate you, then be manipulated! Not really though, duh." He taps his fingers against the desk in a steady rhythm, staring at a painting on the wall thoughtfully. "Point is, you give him exactly what he wants, and it gets you closer to him."

Tubbo supposes that makes sense, even if the thought of getting closer to Schlatt makes his skin crawl. "Yeah, that's smart," he agrees. Then he adds as it occurs to him, "So I'm the one manipulating him then, huh?"

"Yeah, that's you, man." Quackity gives him a toothy grin. "How's that feel?"

It only takes him a moment to decide how to answer, the words blooming straight from the bitterness festering in his heart. "Good."

No one's ever taken Tubbo seriously- not Wilbur, not Tommy, and certainly not Schlatt. That works to his advantage now, but he almost can't wait to see the look on Schlatt's face when he realized just how wrong he'd been about Tubbo.

If they ever got to that point, of course. Tubbo doesn't know how far he's going to go with this whole plan, but for now, it's not so bad. Dealing with Schlatt, proving he's capable... Those were all things he found quite appealing.

"Anything else Schlatt had to say?" Quackity questions. "I mean, you're still here, so I figure. Unless you're just here for my incredibly good company."

"Oh. Umm..." Tubbo hesitates, shifting back and forth on his feet. "He said... you're incompetent. I just, um... I don't think he likes you too much."

He's half scared Quackity might take it the wrong way and lash out at him, but instead, the vice just gives a bitter laugh and leans back on the desk. "Figured that much."

Tubbo wonders, not for the first time, just how Quackity feels about all this. There's a dark look in his eyes as he turns his head to gaze out the window, his lips stretched in a thin line. Maybe he should ask him about it. Or maybe that's none of his business; not yet anyway.

"I think you're real smart, Quackity," Tubbo offers tentatively.

"Thanks, man," he returns, voice distant as if he's not really here in the moment. Tubbo takes this as his cue to leave.

*****

Tubbo's door is ajar.

His business at the white house finished and the day open before him with an endless expanse of opportunities, Tubbo of course has decided to take a long nap. His walk home is quiet and undisturbed, but it appears his home isn't the same way. Maybe he would've missed it if he hadn't looked twice, but the open crack is unmistakable.

Someone is inside.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tubbo rests his hand on the doorknob. What does he do now? Enter and face whoever's waiting, or run back for assistance? No, surely it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He isn't a child in need of protection. Carefully, he unslings his diamond sword from his back, testing the weight in his hand. Without further ado, he prods the door open with his foot and enters.

"Hello?" he calls, voice cracking a bit. Clearing his throat, he tries again. "I'm armed. Who's there?"

"Tubbo, hey! It's just me!" a voice exclaims, and Tubbo rounds the corner to see Tommy Innit seated on his bed.

He freezes, trapped in place by surprise. His heart drops along with his sword, clattering to the ground with a dull thud. "Tommy?" he breathes, eyes nervously flitting back to the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, obviously." Tommy scoffs with an eye roll, hopping to his feet. Then his tone softens a bit. "I just... couldn't leave things the way we left them."

"You shouldn't be here," Tubbo replies, gritting his teeth. What a reckless idiot, that Tommy. Of course he hadn't listened to anything Tubbo had said last night, it always goes through one ear and out the other. "What if someone sees you?! Then we're both done for."

"Calm down, we'll be fine," Tommy sounds unbothered. "C'mon, aren't you happy to see me?"

"We have our weekly meetings. Those are  _ safe _ . This isn't." 

"I just came here to say sorry, alright?" Tommy's grin drops off his face, the corners of his mouth tugging down in a scowl. "Are you really still that mad at me?"

"I'm not mad! I'm worried." Tubbo's stomach turns at the words of his friend. Something churns inside him- guilt? Fear? Anger? "If Schlatt finds out you're here-"

"He won't," Tommy promises. "Relax for just five seconds, okay?" He reaches over and takes Tubbo's hands in his, warm and secure. "Let's just talk.  _ Please _ ."

Tommy never takes no for an answer, especially not from Tubbo. It's pointless. "Fine," he mumbles, attempting to tug his hands away.

But Tommy grabs them again, gripping them tightly. "Hey, listen! Tubbo, I- I don't like what happened last night at all. Man, you're... you're my best friend, right? I'm sorry if you feel like we don't trust you."

"But you don't, do you?" Tubbo asks quietly, averting his eyes. "Just... admit it, if that's how you feel. That would be better than  _ this _ ."

Tommy falters, eyes widening as if taken aback. "I- hey, that's not true! I trust you!"

"Then show me Pogtopia." Tubbo can't believe they're having this conversation again. He's trapped in a time loop, with the same hurt on Tommy's face and the same bitterness twisting a knot in his stomach. 

"Let me talk to Wilbur," Tommy answers, and Tubbo knows that's just as good as a no.

He pulls his hands from his friend's grip, shoving them harshly into his pockets. "You shouldn't be here," he says again. "Tommy, I told you to stay out of Manberg."

" _ L'manberg _ . And I told you that I don't care."

"Tommy, get out," Tubbo repeats, more forcefully. "Get out of my house, get out of this country, and  _ stay away _ . It isn't safe. I'll see you next week, okay?"

Hurt flashes in Tommy's eyes, and he curls his lip. "Don't tell me what to do. I came to fix things, and this is how you react?"

"You're just making things worse!" Tubbo exclaims in a burst of annoyance. "If you would just listen to me for once, we wouldn't have to worry about this!"

"Tubbo-"

"Go home, Tommy," he says. "Or I'm going to get Schlatt."

Tommy doesn't answer for a moment. Then he replies, disgust in his voice, "Sure. See you next week."

He trudges past Tubbo, shoulders knocking against each other. Tubbo watches him go, slamming the door behind him.

_ I screwed up, _ he thinks to himself. Tommy just came to apologize, and instead they'd had another fight. But... Was he really asking for that much? Stay out of Manberg, stay safe in Pogtopia, don't put both their lives at risk. Why couldn't his friend even listen to something as simple as that? 

_ It's for his own good _ . How stupid could he be, not only showing up in Manberg but inside Tubbo's house? The more Tubbo replays the conversation in his head, the more his blood starts to boil, and the more it solidifies his belief that he was in the right. If Tommy really cared about him, really trusted him, why wouldn't he just  _ listen _ ?

Why did it have to feel so complicated?


	4. faking god can't be good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A festival is in the works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh I'm just so impatient to keep updating, I hope you all don't mind <3 as you can see we're heading back a bit toward canon events, though things will be a tad different ^-^ Thank you so so much again for all the love you guys have been leaving on this fic, your comments are all so incredibly encouraging and they make my day!!

Sometimes, Quackity thinks about life before Schlatt. Back when Manberg was L'manberg, with its tall, solid walls and sunny skies. When the election was still something of a joke- Pog2020 vs Swag2020, Wilbur against Quackity. Obviously, there was no question that Wilbur would win. But it couldn't hurt to try, at least, to attempt to climb his way to power through this.

And then Schlatt arrived. He had something to offer Quackity, and Quackity had something to offer him, and so he'd made a deal with the devil and found himself the vice president of the country.

It had been worth it at first, but now Quackity isn't so sure.

He's on a walk with George, the sun high in the sky and bathing the prime path in its glow. Fresh air helps him think, sometimes. Really, it's just the act of being far away from Schlatt and his cold grip that does it. Here, with his friend and running mate, things feel a bit calmer, a bit quieter, a bit more manageable.

"So, what's on the agenda?" George questions, adjusting his goggles to shield his eyes from the sun. "Got anything special going on?"

"Schlatt has something important to discuss tonight, I think," Quackity returns, eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Dunno what, though."

"Ah," George replies. "Another Schlatt surprise. Wonder what he's got in store for us this time."

"Do you like Schlatt, George?" Quackity surprises himself by asking.

"Like Schlatt?" his running mate replies, giving a short laugh. "Well... He's our president."

"Be honest, George. It's not like I'll go snitching."

George scratches the back of his neck, a small sigh escaping his lips. "The man's certainly... interesting. I just don't know if that's in a good or bad way yet. I'm sure we'll get used to him at some point."

_ Get used to him _ . Quackity doesn't want to get used to him, doesn't want to slip into a sense of complacency and let his life waste away before him. He doesn't want his skin to grow accustomed to hell's flames, he wants to rise above it all.

"Why are you asking, then?" George questions, kicking a stray rock. "How do  _ you _ feel about Schlatt?"

Quackity hesitates before answering. "He's alright."

He can never truly be honest about his plans, about his feelings, not even with his friends.  _ Except Tubbo _ , he considers. The kid had ended up the unlikeliest of allies, at least against Schlatt. Quackity still isn't sure who Tubbo's allegiance truly lies with- him or Pogtopia. But that's to be expected; after all, one doesn't betray their closest friends overnight. But with everything he's seen so far, he knows Tubbo will have to face that fork in the road soon, and he's almost certain he won't choose the people who've used and underestimated him again and again.

"How's Dream?" Quackity changes the subject, casting a glance at his friend. "Haven't seen him around lately."

George falls quiet, giving an uncertain shrug. "We don't talk much these days. He's not too happy that... Well, I decided to join Manberg."

"Sorry, man. That must be hard."

"It's fine." There's another brief lapse into silence before he adds, "You know, he's allied with Pogtopia. Not outright, but he is with them."

"Yeah, so I heard," Quackity grumbles. "Of course Pogtopia has to have two Minecrafts gods on their side. Between Dream and Techno, I don't know what we'll do."

"I'm sure Schlatt has a plan," George returns. "I mean, he doesn't seem too concerned."

"Schlatt's in over his head. He just won't admit it."

George hums in reply, stretching his arms up toward the sky. "Well, best be getting back to work. Keep me updated, yeah?"

"Yeah, you got it." Quackity raises his hand in farewell, and George takes a turn, heading off on a branching path.

He spends the rest of the day on fruitless tasks, running errands and doing paperwork. Really, his job as the vice president is pretty useless. He doesn't have any real power here, no real work to do. At least that allows for more free time, which he'd usually use to screw around or hang with his friends (usually both at once). Now, though, he just feels tired, like the hours are dragging on longer and longer.

As the sun finally begins to set, he makes his way to the White House. Another night, another meeting- though this time, apparently Schlatt had some kind of announcement. Groaning quietly to himself, Quackity scrubs at his eyes, as if he can wipe his weariness away. Whatever Schlatt had in store today, it probably wasn't good.

Schlatt is waiting inside his office, hands folded neatly atop the table. Tubbo stands nearby, still as a statue save for his hand, which fidgets anxiously with his tie.

"Late again," Schlatt notes as Quackity enters. "Let's not start making this a habit, hm?"

"Yessir," Quackity replies. He hadn't been late. He knows that, and he knows Schlatt knows that too.

"Right, well, let's get right down to business," the president begins, clearing his throat. "Today, I had quite the enlightening conversation with Tubbo."

Quackity spares the kid a quick glance, and Tubbo gives a forced grin.

"He got me thinking," Schlatt continues, "About what this country needs the most."

"Umm... a strong, flourishing economy?" Tubbo suggests.

"Working bathrooms?" Quackity adds. "Women in the military draft?"

"Unity." Schlatt says flatly, shooting him an annoyed look. "We need unity, now more than ever. The election Wilbur Soot designed to affirm his position of leader has only served to splinter this country into pieces, so we need to get back our patriotism! Wouldn't you boys agree?"

"Yes, Schlatt," Tubbo nods his head in affirmation.

"Yessir," Quackity answers.

"So, I decided we need something to bring us all together." The president spreads his hands in a grand flourish. "A festival, to celebrate democracy and our great country of Manberg! Obviously, we still need to plan it out, and make the official announcement, but I want you two to help me."

A festival? The thought is ridiculous- not because it's a bad idea, but because it's a good one. A sense of normalcy amidst all this, a sense of celebration. It would be the first real event since Schlatt's election, so it would also be a way to solidify Schlatt's control and his position as president.

"Tubbo," Schlatt says, turning to the secretary. Tubbo straightens immediately, sucking in a deep breath. "I want you to give a speech."

"A... speech, Mr. President?" Tubbo furrows his brows.

"Yes, a speech. Don't make me repeat myself." Schlatt gives a long sigh. "So can you do that for me? I want the people to hear you, Tubbo!"

_ No, you want Wilbur and Tommy to _ , Quackity thinks. It's just another jab at Pogtopia, another way to taunt them.

Tubbo obviously knows that too, but he doesn't show it. The kid's a great actor, and Quackity is honestly pretty impressed by it. "Yes, Mr. President," he responds evenly, robotically. "You got it."

"Good. That's what I like to hear." Schlatt flashes the boy a thin smile. With that, he turns to Quackity. "Big Q."

"Yes, sir?"

"Just..." Schlatt gives him a scrutinizing look over, nose wrinkling slightly. "Make sure everything gets sorted out in time. You have two weeks."

Of course he gets stuck with the brunt of the work in the end. Whatever, it's not like he has anything particularly better to do anyways. He just needs to hunker down and focus on making this festival absolutely perfect, so Schlatt doesn't have an excuse to finally remove him from office.

"Then it's settled?" Schlatt asks, as if it's even a question. Of course it's settled. What Schlatt wants, Schlatt gets. As expected, he doesn't wait for a reply. "I'll make the announcement tomorrow, then. You boys go run along! Get some rest, we've got a busy couple of weeks ahead."

"Yes, Schlatt," Tubbo says obediently.

Quackity gives a short nod before heading for the door, fingers tightening around the knob and pushing it open. Tubbo is right behind him, glancing briefly over his shoulder back at Schlatt.

"Goodnight, Tubbo," the president calls after them. "Quackity."

"G'night," Tubbo responds, polite as ever.

"'night," Quackity adds, shutting the door behind him.

The two cabinet members are left alone in the empty hallway, the door to Schlatt's office a barrier separating them from the man holding all the power. Tubbo is silent, sticking his hands in his pockets and standing perfectly still. Almost like he's waiting for something.

Waiting for Quackity?  _ Maybe I should say something _ . "So," he speaks up, voice filling the hall. "A festival, huh?"

"Yeah. That's pretty..." Tubbo trails off. "Big."

As much as Quackity would love to get into a nice, long, and boring conversation about this, they were too exposed out here in the open. "Walk with me?" he asks, and Tubbo nods.

Taking the lead, Quackity starts back for his own office, Tubbo keeping pace at his side. The boy hums a bit as he walks, gaze wandering from wall to wall as if distracted by every little detail. As they round the corner, he stops abruptly, and Quackity quickly does too.

Fundy stands facing across from them, beady eyes narrowed and tail flicking back and forth. Quackity doesn't know what to think of the fox, doesn't have a solid read on him yet. Fundy had betrayed his own father in favor of following Schlatt, had burned down the old L'manberg flag, had turned so completely and utterly against Pogtopia that it had taken many people aback. A man who's allegiances change that easily is a dangerous man, and definitely one Quackity doesn't want to mess around with.

"Hey, Fundy," Tubbo says, raising a hand in greeting and offering a small smile.

"Hey," Fundy replies, eyes flitting between the two. "Tubbo. Quackity. What's up?"

"Nothing much," Tubbo replies with a short shrug. "Just finished our meeting with Schlatt."

"We're just heading to my office to discuss very important things," Quackity cuts in.

"Very important things?" Fundy raises his brows. "Like what?"

"Women!" Tubbo exclaims. "And Jesus."

"Yeah. Women and Jesus." Quackity nods solemnly. "And... workout routines."

"And taxes! Those are important."

"Wow," Fundy says, sounding extremely unimpressed. "You're right, those  _ are _ very important things. I'll leave you to it, then."

"Oh. Bye Fundy!" Tubbo waves again. Quackity grabs his arm and drags him along before the kid inevitably starts another conversation.

Once safe inside the vice president's office, the door locked safely behind them, Quackity turns to face Tubbo and raises his eyebrows. "Women?"

"Sorry. Tommy rubbed off on me a bit," Tubbo rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh.

A grin twitches across Quackity's face, and he leans back against his polished wood desk. "Ah, good old Tommy. How's he doing, by the way?"

It's obvious to see how Tubbo's mood immediately drops. "He's, uh," the boy mutters, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. "Doing well for himself."

"Hmm," Quackity replies, the wheels in his head turning. Then he asks, "What're you doing tomorrow, Tubbo?"

"Hm?" Tubbo blinks, glancing up at him. "Umm... not sure. Depends on what Schlatt has for me..."

"We should work on the festival preparations. Together," Quackity offers. "If you want, I mean." He figures if he's going to be working together with the kid to dethrone Schlatt, they should at least get to know each other better. Besides, work is always more fun with friends.

"Together?" Tubbo echoes, in the kind of tone that says he can't quite believe it. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I mean, we're partners now, aren't we? Let's hang out, get some work done, talk about Jesus and women-"

"Oh, knock it off," Tubbo huffs, but he laughs a bit. 

"-but seriously," Quackity adds, turning serious again. "I mean, we're basically committing treason together, and I'd rather commit treason with someone I know than with a stranger."

Tubbo hugs his arms against his chest, a warm smile growing on his face. "Yeah, alright," he replies. "Let's do it, then."

"Great." With that settled, Quackity gives a loud yawn, covering his mouth with one hand. "Right, well, unless you've got anything else worth of note, I'm heading off to bed. You should too."

Immediately, Quackity knows something's up, because the look in Tubbo's eyes changes to something a bit more guilty, a bit more upset. Well, the kid definitely has something important to say, then. The question is  _ will _ he say it? Quackity decides to wait it out, keeping his eyes locked on the other's, the tension blanketing the room pressing down on their shoulders.

He's pleasantly surprised when Tubbo says, "Tommy visited me."

"What?" Quackity certainly hadn't expected that of all things. Oh man, Schlatt would be pissed if he heard Tommy had been back on their land. "Why? When? Where?"

"I found him in my house when I came home." Tubbo shifts uncomfortably under the interrogation. "He wanted to... apologize, and I told him to leave."

"Apologize for what?"

"...we had a fight the other day." The boy shrugs nonchalantly, but his tone is anything but. "And then another one when he came over. I just... He put so much at risk, y'know? My life, his own life... I told him to stay away, and he came anyways!" The frustration in his voice wells with every word, churning and churning until it bursts out in a flood. "I wish he'd just-!"

Abruptly, he cuts himself off, averting his eyes. "Sorry. I got a bit... carried away."

"No, it's fine," Quackity reassures him. "I mean, if you want to flip out over Tommy, by all means, please flip out over Tommy."

That earns a tiny chuckle from Tubbo. "I guess I'm just a bit... annoyed with him right now. It'll pass soon, though. We normally don't fight for long..." His tone doesn't match what he's saying- it's full of uncertainty, clouded with doubt.

"Well," Quackity offers hesitantly. "I hope things work out."

He means it, too. He doesn't have any real ill will against Wilbur Soot and Tommy Innit, and losing a friend is always a terrible thing to go through. As long as Tommy stays out of his way, he doesn't care what happens.

The smile returns to Tubbo's face. "Thanks. I'm sure..." he trails off, then clears his throat. "I'm sure they will."

Quackity starts for the door, briefly setting a hand on Tubbo's shoulder as he passes by. "Well, g'night, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah! See you then." There's excitement in the other's voice, and it's contagious. As Quackity heads back for his home, he realizes his bad mood has completely evaporated. 

Maybe this whole festival thing wouldn't turn out so horrible.


	5. bone of my bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo and Quackity hang out. (ft. Niki and the best pastries a man could ask for)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a lil character bonding chapter before shit hits the fan <3 Or, as my friend said: "the insurgents are bonding!" :P
> 
> I know I always say this, but I'm still absolutely floored by all the love you guys have been showering this fic with. It makes me so happy to read all your comments and know you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing!! <33 have an amazing day :D

Manberg's citizens gather at Schlatt's beck and call, filling the stands past their capacity. Tubbo, standing near the edge of the election podium, counts the faces he recognizes- Niki, Fundy, George. Friends, enemies, and everything in between.

"Crowdwatching, ey?" Quackity's voice asks from behind, and Tubbo jumps a bit. The man gives a short laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets and giving Tubbo a smile. "How's it looking?"

"Good turnout," Tubbo replies, returning it with a brief smile of his own. Quackity's pretty good at making him smile; he's funny, but he's also kind. At least to him, anyways. Tubbo can't remember the last time someone was kind to him without expecting anything in return.

Arguably, perhaps Quackity did want something- Tubbo to be a triple agent. And maybe Tubbo was simply naive and stupid, but he didn't think that's why Quackity was trying to warm up to him. The Vice could easily blackmail him instead, but rather he chose to give Tubbo his own choice. So he wants to believe in Quackity, believe that maybe he isn't like the others.

The others? Schlatt, Wilbur... Tommy? _No,_ Tubbo scolds himself, gritting his teeth. Tommy is his friend. They're just having a rough patch, that's all.

"Schlatt's on in five," Quackity says, fixing his gaze on the citizens gathered below. "You think Tommy and Wilbur are here somewhere, or are you gonna have to report the festival to them yourself?"

"Dunno," Tubbo mumbles.

Quackity claps him on the shoulder briefly before turning away again. "Well, I'm gonna try to find a seat. George, my gorgeous friend, was _supposed_ to save me one, but you know that guy. You can join me if ya want."

"Yeah, I'll be there in a bit," Tubbo answers distantly, starting to tune out again. Subconsciously, he searches the crowd again, eyes hunting for stray potion particles or a familiar flash of blond hair. _Were_ Tommy and Wilbur here somewhere? Usually, he'd wish they were, but strangely now he just wishes they'd stay far away.

"Hey, Tubbo," a new voice breaks through his thoughts, and Tubbo glances sharply to his left to see Schlatt, all dressed up in his Sunday best. The president stands at his side, following his stare to the stands. "Looking for someone?"

"No, Schlatt," he hurriedly answers. He plugs just the right amount of uncertainty in his voice to make Schlatt know what he thinks is the truth- that Tubbo is weak, that Tubbo misses Tommy, that Tubbo hopes they're here.

"Hmm." Schlatt hums in reply. "I saw you chatting with Big Q."

Huh? Tubbo hadn't expected Schlatt to comment on that of all things. "Um, yeah," he replies, fidgeting with his tie. "He's the vice president, so..."

"It's nice you two are getting friendly all of a sudden." There's a smile on Schlatt's face, but it sends a shiver trailing down Tubbo's spine with icy fingers. "You seem pretty lonely in my cabinet, Tubbo. I'm glad you're making connections."

"Oh. Yes, Schlatt." He swallows hard, sparing another quick look at the president. "It has been... strange. Without Tommy around."

"Mm, I can imagine." Schlatt sets his hand on Tubbo's shoulder in what's probably meant to be a comforting gesture. "But Tubbo, as my right hand man, let me give you a word of warning. That Quackity is one you don't want to get entangled with, alright? He might seem like a good guy, but he's dangerous. I mean, he’s practically crazy. Since you're my right hand, I have to look out for you, y'know?"

Unease stirs in Tubbo's stomach, and he tries to gauge the hidden meaning behind Schlatt's words. Well, 'stay away from Quackity' was the obvious one, but what was the reason for that? Did Schlatt suspect something, or did he simply want to keep Tubbo isolated from everyone around him? _We'll have to be more careful_ , he thinks. "Yes, Schlatt," he says out loud. "I'll be careful. Thank you."

Schlatt squeezes his shoulder, just hard enough to pull a wince from the boy. "There you go. Just listen to me, and you'll be fine." With that, he turns away. "You should find a seat. I'm about to make the announcement."

Tubbo feels bad turning down Quackity's invitation to sit with him, but it's too big of a risk right now, especially when he didn't know what Schlatt was really thinking. Instead, he finds a spot by Niki, who offers him a weary smile. Her eyes are sunken, underlined with dark bags. Tubbo wonders when the last time she'd slept was. _Wilbur doesn't even bring her to Pogtopia. Niki! She's suffering here under Schlatt, and Wilbur won't even help her._

The announcement goes by so fast, Tubbo nearly misses it, caught up deep in his thoughts. Before he knows it, Niki is giving his hair a short ruffle and asking him to come visit, and he rushes to raise a hand in farewell before she's gone. The stands clear, Manberg's citizens clamoring with the festival news, but Tubbo stays seated, elbows propped on his knees and chin resting on his hands.

"So, big man, ready to get some work done?"

Tubbo looks up to see Quackity standing over him, eyebrows raised and sunglasses lowered. A flash of alarm shoots through him, and he glances toward the stage in search of Schlatt. The president is nowhere to be found.

Nevertheless, he keeps his voice in a whisper. "Schlatt might suspect something. He... told me to stay away from you."

To his surprise, the vice doesn't seem scared at all. Instead, he laughs. "Nah, trust me, he doesn't. It's just a classic manipulation tactic. He doesn't want you having anyone to turn to outside of him."

So Tubbo had suspected, but Quackity's words don't do much to calm his jittering nerves. "Still, though. We should be more careful. Don't let him see us together."

"Yessir, yessir, we want to convince him you're totally falling for him," Quackity agrees with a nod. "My house, then? Well out of the way, plus we're on official cabinet business, so what can he do?"

Something about Quackity's lack of concern makes Tubbo smile a bit. "Okay. Your house."

Quackity's place is tiny and cramped, smaller even than his office. There's barely enough room for the desk and bed, let alone the presence of two people. But Quackity spreads his arms out, as if proud of the place. "Welcome to my humble abode."

"It's..."

"Small. I know." The vice laughs, and Tubbo's face reddens a bit, abashed. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm not offended." He gestures toward the unmade bed. "Feel free to take a seat."

Tubbo lowers himself atop the messy sheets, shifting his weight across the mattress. "So, what're we working on today?"

"Well, you have a speech to write, and I need to draft a basic plan." Quackity yawns, sounding like he'd rather be doing anything in the world than this. "So let's get to it! You can use the computer, or I've got a notebook somewhere around here."

The two work mostly in silence, both writing their own individual projects. Tubbo's never been the most eloquent person, and the speech comes along slowly and painstakingly. Citizens of Manberg- no, my fellow citizens- no, citizens of this great country? We gather here today- no, under the security of our flag, we've gathered- no, under the security of our _president_ , we've gathered-

And what does he even talk about in this speech? _Unity_ , Schlatt had said. It had been Tubbo's own idea, really, so this should be easy, but it's not. What brings a people together? 'Home is where the heart is', he scribbles across the notebook. 'And our hearts are in Manberg, regardless of what flag flies over us or what leader rules over us'. So- so bring it back to unity, tie it in there somewhere, and then it'll be perfect.

Tubbo's head hurts, and he's sure he has a blister on his finger now from how tightly he's been gripping the pen. It's been a few hours, and he's no closer to a final product than he'd been before.

"Coffee break?" Quackity speaks up from his desk, leaning back in his chair. "If I see the word 'festival' one more time, I think I'm going to go insane."

Tubbo gives a dry laugh. "Yeah, sure. I think my brain's given out on this anyway. I'm not real... good at this."

"Well hey, can I take a look?" The vice offers, holding out a hand. Tubbo hesitates a moment before passing over the notebook.

"'Citizens of this great country'," Quackity begins in a dramatic voice, holding up his other hand. Tubbo giggles a bit. "'We gather here today under the security of our president, our flag, and our country's borders. Manberg and its people have been through a lot, have fought tooth and nail to get where we are today.' Oh hey, that's pretty good."

"Thanks." Tubbo flushes from the compliment.

"'It's always a hard thing to say goodbye to a ruler and goodbye to an era. Wilbur Soot gave us this country, and now he's entrusted it to our hands. Instead of taking care of it, though, we've grown divided with infighting and distrust. Let's not forget what we've sacrificed for this land, and let's be sure not to throw it all away.' Yeah, yeah, I like that," Quackity nods in approval. "'Home is where the heart is, and our hearts are in Manberg, regardless of what flag flies over us or what leader rules over us. So let's keep our eyes set on unity, and let's strive toward a brighter future together'."

He falls silent as he runs out of words to read, and Tubbo anxiously awaits the final verdict. Quackity scans the notebook again, then once more. Finally, he announces, "Yes, baby, yes! For a first draft, this sounds exactly like the load of baloney Schlatt will eat right up." He extends the notebook back toward Tubbo, a grin on his face. "You've got a real way with words, man."

Nobody's ever said that about Tubbo before. Usually, people say the opposite, even Tommy. _Especially Tommy_. A smile of his own grows on his face as he accepts the notebook back, rubbing his neck. "Aw, gee, thanks, Big Q."

"You've totally got this in the bag," Quackity scoffs with a wave of his hand. "So let's grab some good ol' caffeine and get back to cranking, yeah?"

The genuine compliments are doing wonders for his self confidence, and Tubbo thinks maybe this won't be so hard after all.

*****

There's a knock on Quackity's door, bright and early the next morning. The vice had barely woken up, and was just starting to get dressed for another hard day of festival work. He still has to submit his rough plan to Schlatt and gain approval before moving on, and he was hoping to finish that by lunch before maybe meeting with Tubbo again to see how his speech was coming.

It looks like those plans are basically going out the window because when he opens the door, the kid himself is standing there, fidgeting anxiously with his tie. His eyes brighten as they meet Quackity's, and he hurriedly says, "G'morning!"

"'morning, Tubbo," Quackity replies with an amused smile. "Getting a head start?"

"Huh?" Tubbo blinks, then quickly shakes his head. "Oh, no, I'm not here for work! I just, uh, I dunno." He taps his fingers together, shuffling his feet. "Do you wanna get breakfast? We can go to Niki's, and I can pay! It'll be nice, maybe. If you want. And we can just- well, I dunno. I just wanna do something nice for you, that's all!"

Quackity is stunned into silence under the onslaught of rambling, and he holds up his hands to quiet the other. Despite how nervous the kid seems, Quackity can't help but grin, his heart warmed slightly at the gesture of good will. "Hey, you don't have to do anything for me. But if you wanna get breakfast, then let's get breakfast!"

Tubbo brightens once more, and he rocks back on his heels. "Awesome! Right, um, I'll lead the way!"

Quackity hasn't been to Niki's bakery in- well, he can't even remember. He doesn't even know where he stands with Niki, really. He had helped her escape from Schlatt, but he had also helped Schlatt raise her taxes and keep her in check. They aren't really enemies, not yet, but they aren't friends either.

The building seems desolate and empty, which strikes Quackity as wrong. This bakery should be a place full of life, of warmth, of love. Instead, it's cold and dark, besides the lights on inside. He pulls open the door, holding it for Tubbo to pass through, before following him on in.

Niki is behind the counter, hunched over the oven. She whirls around as she hears them enter, then relaxes, shoulders slumping. If the bakery is a graveyard, then Niki is a zombie, barely hanging on to life. Her face is shallow and pale, her eyes dull and without sparkle. "Oh, Tubbo!" Her voice is soft, and she sounds happy to see him. "And... Quackity."

"Hey, Niki," Quackity says awkwardly.

"Hi, Niki!" Tubbo smiles. "Um, we just came to get breakfast, if you're not busy."

"Of course," she replies, tucking her hair behind one ear. "I've just got some fresh pastries out of the oven, wait one second."

The food smells delicious, and it tastes even better. Quackity sits at one of the tables across from Tubbo, immediately digging in. Even if Niki seemed to have lost her spark, her pastries certainly hadn't. 

"Man, these'r really good," Quackity says, mouth full. "I should've come'ere sooner."

"Finishing chewing, that's impolite," Niki scowls lightheartedly, leaning against the counter.

Tubbo laughs, covering his mouth with his sleeve as Niki shoots him a playful glare. "That goes for you too, Mr. Secretary! Don't think you can get away with poor manners just because you're in charge."

“Hey, watch it,” Quackity warns, pointing a finger at her. “I’ll have you know you’re speaking to the fattest ass in the cabinet.”

Their conversation is light and cheerful, Niki joining in with ease. Quackity can tell her mood is improving, and he's glad to at least bring some sense of normalcy back to the girl. They eat until they can't eat anymore, then Tubbo pays, leaving an extra generous tip to hopefully help her with her higher taxes.

"It's been nice having you around," Niki says with a soft smile, sticking the payment inside her chest for safekeeping. "I haven't seen you in a bit, Tubbo."

"Yeah, Schlatt's been keeping me pretty busy." Tubbo scratches the back of his neck with a small laugh. "I missed you too, Niki."

"Oh, you better believe I'm coming back soon," Quackity puts in. "I've found pastry heaven and there's no way I’m giving it up. Yessir!"

"Well, you're both always welcome here." Niki leans against the counter, closing her eyes briefly with a small exhale. "You're heading off, then?"

"Yeah, we've got loads to do to prepare for the festival," Tubbo nods. "Hey, are you coming, by the way?"

"I guess." Niki absently traces a shape on the counter with one finger. "I'll probably have a stand for the bakery."

"I'll make sure to reserve you a spot," Quackity offers.

"Thanks." She gives him the ghost of a smile. "Well, don't overwork yourselves, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Quackity salutes, stepping back toward the door.

"Bye, Niki." Tubbo waves a hand before hugging his arms against his chest, following Quackity out.

"Goodbye," the bakery owner replies quietly, forlorn gaze following them as they leave.

Outside, the sun reigns over them, climbing steadily in the sky. Quackity shoves his hands into his pockets, starting off for the white house, Tubbo keeping pace at his side. For a bit, they just enjoy the silence, their company being enough.

"Niki doesn't seem to be doing well," Tubbo speaks up, eyes fixed down on the wooden walkway. "I hope she'll be alright."

"Maybe the festival will be good for her," Quackity says, hoping to reassure him somehow. "You know what they say. Fresh air, sunshine, and social interaction is the best medicine. Besides drugs, obviously."

"Why hasn't Wilbur come for her?" Tubbo abruptly says, gaze hardening. Quackity is taken aback by the sudden coldness in his voice, so out of place from the bright conversation they'd just had at the bakery. "Why did he leave her here to rot away? It's not fair! Niki put her life on the line for him, and now she's suffering for it and he doesn't even seem to care."

He takes a moment to decide how to respond, unsure how to handle this righteous anger from the boy. "Well... damn, I really don't know," he finally manages out. "I don't know what goes on in the head of Wilbur Soot. I guess she just isn't... worth whatever the consequences of coming back for her would be."

"Not worth it," Tubbo echoes, voice low. "Yeah. I guess."

He doesn't say anything else on the subject, so neither does Quackity.


	6. the fork in the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo sets his priorities straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand things start to go downhill :P
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kind words and feedback you all have been leaving :DDD I can't stress enough how happy it makes me, so I'll just keep saying it :P <333
> 
> (also, feel like it's worth mentioning now since I kinda just assumed this was common sense before, but please don't ship real people and none of this is meant to be romantic!!! good friendships only here <3)

Three days, twenty two cups of coffee, and five rewrites later (with assistance from Quackity), the finished draft of Tubbo's speech is finally finished.

Tubbo sits across from Schlatt at his desk, nervously waiting in tense silence as the president scans over the words he's poured his heart into writing. Quackity had assured him time and time again that it was good, it was perfect, that Schlatt would be pleased, but it did little to soothe his nerves. He wants Schlatt to be happy with it, wants Schlatt to trust him more and keep him closer. Then it'll be easier for him to stab him in the back when the man least expected it. Not for Pogtopia, though. For Quackity, and for their friendship.

It _was_ a friendship now, Tubbo thinks. They'd gone from treason partners to real friends over the days they'd spent working together, talking and laughing and joking around. They were careful to stay out of Schlatt's watchful eye, meeting only at Niki's bakery or Quackity's house, needing to convince the president they were nothing more than acquaintances. Schlatt seemed to buy it for now, overconfident that he was successfully manipulating his right hand without trouble.

Now, they just need a chance to act. Tubbo is impatient, doesn't like waiting around with Schlatt in power. He wants to get rid of him right now, but it's too reckless and risky to move forward without a real plan. He just needs to find something that Quackity can use, and then they can finally take Schlatt out of the picture once and for all. They can save Manberg, and then no one will ever underestimate him ever again.

For now, though, all he can do is sit still while Schlatt finishes his reading, setting down the papers neatly on his desk. "Well, Tubbo," he begins. "This is good! This is good, I like what I'm seeing. Well done!"

Tubbo makes sure to smile, to rub the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mr. President."

"I knew I made the right choice with you," Schlatt says. "This festival will be a smashing success, and it's all thanks to you!"

He almost speaks up then, almost tells the president how much work Quackity has put into organizing, how much Quackity has helped him revise the speech, how much Quackity has labored to make this event perfect. But he doesn't, because he's not supposed to be friendly with Quackity. So instead, he just smiles again. "I'm glad I did good, Schlatt. I just want everyone to be happy again."

"They will, Tubbo," Schlatt promises. "Oh, they will. Once all this fighting and arguing is over and Pogtopia is gone for good, we can finally have peace again."

"I hope so," Tubbo mumbles, staring out the window forlornly. He hopes Schlatt takes it as uncertainty about Pogtopia, about wiping out his friends. Really, he's thinking just how everyone will be safe again once Schlatt is out of office.

"Are you excited for the festival?" Schlatt asks, leaning forward across the desk.

"Umm... yes, Schlatt," he replies. "I think everyone will quite enjoy it."

"Good, good," Schlatt mutters, more to himself than to Tubbo. "Alright, that's all, then! Go get some rest, you've earned it."

"Thank you." Tubbo gives him a weak smile, pushing himself to his feet and taking his speech off the desk, gathering the papers in his arms.

"Oh, and Tubbo?" Schlatt adds, as if it's just occurred to him. "If you see Quackity anywhere, tell him to get the revised plans to me by tonight. His tardiness is going to drive me crazy, I swear..."

Tubbo sees red for a moment, his grip on the papers tightening just enough to wrinkle them. "Yes, Schlatt," he says robotically before turning on his heel and hurrying from the office.

Since the president's given him the rest of the day off, Tubbo decides to head for Quackity's house to give him the good news on the approval of his speech and hopefully finish those festival plans before Schlatt loses his shit. The door is unlocked for him already, and Quackity greets him with a hearty hello. He makes a joke that Tubbo laughs at, and soon he's settled in on top of the unmade bed, a feeling of warmth in his chest. Quackity's home is basically his own home at this point, and it's easy to relax within its steady four walls.

*****

"So, you're meeting with Tommy today, aren't you?"

It's the next day, and Tubbo is sitting out on the lawn with Quackity, fresh green grass no doubt staining his suit. He'd told the vice that Schlatt wouldn't be happy, but Quackity had shrugged off his concerns. "It's such a gorgeous day, Tubbo! We've gotta enjoy the sunshine. Plus," he'd scolded, "You can't spend all your time cooped up in an office. Fresh air does wonders for the soul!"

And so here they are, Quackity laying down in the grass with his hands tucked behind his head, knees angled toward the sky and Tubbo seated beside him, legs crossed and hands in his lap. The vice president has been cloudwatching for the past five minutes, excitedly pointing at the shapes he sees. "That one looks like Dream! Oh hey, Tubbo, that one's a bee! Hehe, that looks like crack."

Tubbo's been listening with amusement, following the other's finger and trying his best to make out the pictures the clouds painted. That's why he's so surprised when Quackity abruptly brings up the subject of Tommy, seemingly out of nowhere. Then again, the vice's head always jumped to weird places, as if it could never quite settle on a subject it liked.

"Um, yeah, I guess," Tubbo replies, clearing his throat. Time goes by fast, too fast for the boy to keep track of, sand in the hourglass sliding through his fingers before he can orient himself. Sure enough, it's been a week since his last meeting with Tommy, a week since their fight. Nerves twist his stomach into a tight knot, and he curls a blade of grass around one finger. He's not eager to face his friend again after their last argument, but he knows he has to at some point.

"Nervous?" Quackity asks.

"Yeah," Tubbo mutters.

"I can tell."

He huffs, giving a small eyeroll. "Gee, thanks, Big Q."

"Don't mention it," the vice says brightly. "So you gonna tell him about the festival?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. You'll have to tell me how he reacts." Quackity pauses, then sits up, shifting himself so he's facing Tubbo. "You _are_ still spying on them, right? Like, that hasn't changed?"

"Of course," Tubbo quickly says, though his words hold uncertainty. Yes, he likes Quackity. Quackity is kind to him, Quackity makes him laugh, Quackity makes him feel safe. And more than that, Quackity likes _him_. So of course Tubbo should spy for him, because they're friends, and because they made a deal. Tubbo helps him out, and he gets a position of power, a real one.

But... isn't Tommy also his friend? He likes Tommy. Tommy makes him... Well, Tommy makes him cry, lately. Tommy makes him angry (sometimes, only sometimes). Tommy makes his chest tighten, makes him feel like he can't breathe (but that's normal, it's always been that way with Tommy). 

"Look, man." Quackity gives a long exhale, staring out at the endless expanse of blue above them. "I'm not here to manipulate you or blackmail you or whatever. We're partners, yeah? So if you have any concerns, you should just say 'em, and we can work them out together."

 _Work them out together_. That sounded nice, to just have a conversation about everything. Usually, when Tubbo had a problem, it ended with Tommy getting upset or Wilbur laughing over it. But he doesn't think Quackity will do any of that, so he decides to just be honest. "I don't wanna hurt them," he murmurs, picking at the grass again. He plucks one blade, two blades, three. The wind blows them out of his open palm and sends them sailing into the unknown.

"Hurt Tommy and Wilbur?"

"Yeah."

"Well... why?" Quackity raises his brows. "I mean, I'm genuinely curious. Do they care about hurting you? Because to me, it seems like they don't."

Quackity's words make him pause, make him stumble for words. "I- I mean, they're my friends," he manages to say. "I don't... I mean, Tommy'll never forgive me."

The vice president taps his fingers against his knees, falling silent. Tubbo can tell he's thinking, so he doesn't say anything, just waits for the final verdict.

"I guess... there's a time where you'll have to make a choice, Tubbo," Quackity finally says. "Somewhere along this road, you'll have to decide what you want, and what you'll do to get it. We take Schlatt down, and Wilbur and Tommy are inevitably going to come back looking for power. You'll have to face them then, and it's going to be a lot harder than it'll be now." He closes his eyes briefly, the breeze softly ruffling his hair. "Power requires great sacrifice. You'll have to choose for yourself if it's worth it or not. You can go back to being nothing, or you can seize this chance and make a name for yourself."

He's surprised to hear not a drop of anger in the other's voice, just a hint of forlorn. It's like Tubbo really does have a choice, and he supposes he does. Quackity won't force him into something he doesn't want to do. But the opportunity is there, dangling in front of him if he ever wants to reach for it. Time is running out, though, and he knows Quackity is right. One way or another, he's going to have to face Tommy and Wilbur when this is all over, and it'll be much worse then than it is now. 

"Thanks," Tubbo murmurs, hugging his knees against his chest. "For... all this, I guess. For being my friend."

"You don't have to thank me for that," Quackity snorts. "You're not so bad, T-man. I hope whatever you choose, we won't end up enemies."

"Never," Tubbo promises immediately, and despite his uncertainty toward everything else in the world, he knows he means that. 

*****

Tommy is late.

Tubbo stands under their meeting tree, the night air warm for once. He rolls up the sleeves of his button up- he'd elected to leave the suit at home this time, seeing how Tommy had reacted last time to it. The moon watches from above, poised and scanning the clearing below.

As he waits in the quiet darkness, Tubbo thinks over Quackity's words again. He's been thinking about them nonstop, actually. The choice really shouldn't be that hard, but it is anyways, somehow. Tommy or Quackity. His oldest friend or his newest. The man offering nothing or the man offering everything.

It makes his head hurt, so he stops thinking about it.

The grass rustles nearby, and Tubbo spins around just as Tommy emerges, silhouette illuminated by crisp, bright moonlight. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches Tubbo with narrowed eyes. Once again, Wilbur isn't here.

"Hey," Tubbo speaks up.

"Hey, man," Tommy sighs, nudging the ground with the point of his shoe. "What's up?"

"Not much." So they're just going to pretend like it never happened, then? Their argument, their fighting, the cruel words passed between them? Before, Tubbo wouldn't have minded. Now, though, it makes him angry to think that Tommy would so easily push his problems aside. With Quackity, he'd been able to have a conversation about their differences. With Tommy, that would always be impossible.

"Hmm. Got any news, then?" Tommy joins him under the tree, leaning back against the trunk and folding his arms. "How's Schlatt? Hopefully going into cardiac arrest?"

"He's doing good," Tubbo answers evenly. He pauses, then says, "He's hosting a festival to celebrate unity. It's in a week, on Wednesday."

"A festival?" Tommy blinks. Then he scoffs, giving a loud laugh. "Unity? What a load of bullshit."

"I'm giving a speech," Tubbo adds, though he isn't sure why he does. Maybe because he's proud of it, even if it's for Schlatt. He'd worked hard on it, and with Quackity's steady feedback, it had turned into something he's almost excited for.

"You?" his friend sounds shocked. "Giving a speech? What the hell is Schlatt thinking?"

Tubbo's face burns. _He doesn't mean it in a cruel way,_ he tells himself. But the way Tommy is laughing, it's hard to believe it. "Schlatt says it's good," he defends himself. "Quackity thinks it's amazing."

"Schlatt? Big Q?" Tommy snorts again, shaking his head. "Yeah, real good people to take compliments from, Tubbo. Well, have fun with that, I guess. A speech..." He says it likes it's some kind of joke, like it's something Tubbo should laugh along with.

He doesn't.

"Wilbur's been acting weird lately," Tommy changes the subject. "Been pretty mean all around. He's really going through it, y'know. The sooner we get back to L'manberg, the better."

"Yeah."

"I'm so sick of potatoes," he continues. "I miss Niki's bakery."

"Maybe you should've brought her, then." Tubbo can't stop the note of bitterness that slips into his tone.

Tommy curls his lip. "We can't risk it. It's way too dangerous just with Wilbur and I already. Even Techno is pushing it."

And Tubbo thinks about what Quackity had said again, about deciding what you want and what you'll do to get it. About Niki not being worth coming back for. "Would you come back for me?" Tubbo blurts before he can stop himself, the question burning on his tongue. "If Schlatt caught me?"

"Huh? What kinda question is that?" Tommy blinks, scratching his head. "Well, sure. I mean- well, it would be pretty dangerous. But we'd work something out, probably. We always do."

"Would Wilbur come back for me?"

"Oh, come on, now you're just trying to be difficult," his friend scoffs. "We won't leave you hanging. But seriously, just don't get caught. It would be so bothersome for everyone if we had to pull a rescue op, especially with Schlatt wanting our heads."

 _Bothersome_. "Right," Tubbo says. "Sorry. I won't." He clears his throat, sticking his hands into his pockets to hide the way they’re trembling. "Um, I'm feeling kinda tired. I think I'm gonna head back."

"Aw, really?" Tommy sounds almost upset. "Well, whatever, then. Hope ya feel better."

"Thanks."

"See you next week?" there's a hint of hope in his voice.

Tubbo's chest tightens, his head beginning to pound. _Stop pretending there's nothing wrong. Stop ignoring it_. "Yeah, of course."

"Right," Tommy says. "Okay. G'night."

By the time Tubbo arrives back at Quackity's house, the clearing and the meeting and everything horrible far behind him, his vision is blurry. He's trying so hard not to cry, because it's such a stupid thing to cry over, but he can't help it. It's like the last bridge has been burned down, the last tie cut loose, and there's nothing else besides emptiness and agony filling him up and spilling out until he can't breathe. He pounds on the door, fist shaking and legs trembling, praying the man inside will open it.

The door swings open, and there's Quackity standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Tubbo? What-"

He breaks into a sob, holding a fist over his mouth in a poor attempt to stifle it. Quackity immediately straightens, alarm flashing across his face. "Hey, what, hey- what's the matter?"

Tubbo shakes his head frantically, unable to find the words. He feels like he's being choked, his throat closing up and trapping his whirling thoughts inside him. Almost immediately, Quackity's pulling him into a hug, resting his chin on top of his head and wrapping his arms securely around him. Tubbo sinks against his friend- his _real_ friend, not like Tommy, who laughs at his accomplishments and tells him he's a bother- and presses his face against his shirt, trying to regain control over his breathing.

Quackity doesn't say anything, doesn't press him for details, just stands there and waits for him to calm down. When Tubbo finally feels like the world's finished collapsing around him, he sucks in a deep breath and says, "I understand now. I know... I don't ever want to go back to them. Back to normal."

He feels Quackity tense a bit with anticipation. "So...?"

"I'm with you," he whispers. "All the way."


	7. ashes to ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur's got festival plans of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends :D we are at last really getting into the plot, so I've got a few notes to help with context!
> 
> 1\. this fic isn't operating exactly under Minecraft logic, so there are no respawns. Death is death, no going back. The 'Minecraft' element is more sort of in the background, so you can see it if you squint, but it's more like a real-world kinda deal :D
> 
> 2\. there's a lot more canon divergence when it comes to the festival, obviously :P for one, I know in canon the festival is on Friday (tomorrow!! geez, I'm scared), but because I cannot do math and keeping track of time hurts my head, I'm keeping the dates in the fic to make things easier on me
> 
> 3\. I put together a playlist for this fic!! mostly for myself for writing inspo, but anyone's welcome to check it out. listen with care and be safe! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4gNMwnOtWmbusnUCQ1wNJR?si=H0NSZIWKRWKSy1p_H8_Ilw
> 
> anyways, thanks so so much again for all this love, it's seriously blowing me away. you guys rock!! have a great day :D <33

Quackity finds Tubbo outside on the lawn the next morning, knees hugged against his chest and chin resting atop them. He's staring off at the rising sun, a distant look in his eyes. The wind gently pulls and tugs at his curls almost absentmindedly, ruffling the grass as well.

The kid hasn't said anything about what happened at the meeting yet. Quackity figures it's better not to badger him, despite his swelling curiosity. He wonders what on earth Tommy Innit had done to finally push him over the edge. What had been the final blow to make Tubbo decide enough was enough.

"Good morning," he says, coming to stand over the boy. "I had a horrible nightmare that Schlatt called me a flatty patty, so I hope you slept better than me."

Tubbo gives a small snort. "Well, anything would be a good sleep compared to  _ that _ ."

At least he seems in a joking mood, which is a good sign. "You feeling alright?" Quackity questions, peering down at him.

The other briefly meets his eyes before looking off into the sun again. "Yeah, I think. Yesterday, everything was so...  _ awful _ . It felt like the world was ending. But now, it's just... " he lapses into silence, chewing on his lip. "Quiet."

Hoping he's not overstepping, Quackity says, "Are you up for working today? I can tell Schlatt you're under the weather."

"No, it's fine." Tubbo exhales before pushing himself to his feet, dusting off his wrinkled suit. He'd passed out in his clothes on Quackity's bed last night, leaving the vice to fall asleep at his desk. Usually he'd probably be annoyed about that, but for his friend, he didn't mind.

"You should probably get changed, then." Quackity elbows him lightly. "You know what Schlatt'll say. 'Ooh, Tubbo,'" he complains mockingly in his best Schlatt impression. "'Your shirt's got wrinkles, Tubbo. This entire cabinet will collapse because of those wrinkles, Tubbo.'"

Tubbo laughs, shaking his head. "Yeah, you're right. I'll meet you later?"

"Yeah, swing by for lunch," Quackity replies. He sets a hand on Tubbo's shoulder, about to head off, but pauses. "If you need to talk about it... Uh, I'm not good with advice, and I'm a horrible listener, but... y'know. I've got you."

"Thanks, Big Q," Tubbo mumbles, smiling up at him. "It'll be okay, though. Once we're in charge, they'll all see..." Something in his eyes darkens, and Quackity thinks that Tommy Innit and Wilbur Soot need to watch out. Because they've created something dangerous, built a cage and then handed him the key.

"Well, I'm off to deal with Schlatt, then." Quackity yawns, covering his mouth with one hand. "This festival can't get here soon enough... Hey, seeya soon."

Tubbo raises a hand in farewell, gaze trained after him as he starts off for the white house.

*****

The office feels more suffocating than it usually does, the paperwork blurring into meaningless scribbles. It's impossible to focus on any of this, Tubbo thinks bitterly, scrubbing at his eyes. It feels wrong to be doing something as mundane as paperwork after all this. But life goes on, and under Schlatt's tight reign, there's nothing else for him to do.

Exhaling, he glances at the clock. Lunch is in an hour; he'll meet up with Quackity again for that. What the hell was he supposed to do until then, more paperwork? The thought is so unappealing that Tubbo pushes his chair back and gets to his feet, deciding he'll go on a walk to hopefully get rid of all his excess energy.

The white house halls are empty, and he easily slips outside without notice. Not that Schlatt would really get mad, he just doesn't feel like dealing with the president right now. Doesn't really feel like dealing with anyone at all, actually. Except Quackity- he wishes his friend were here to make a dumb joke about his fat ass or drugs or whatever random thing popped into his head.  _ Just another hour, _ Tubbo thinks. Then he won't have to deal with the silence anymore.

His walk takes him, maybe subconsciously, near Tommy's old house. The place is definitely worse for wear, damaged by creepers and Schlatt and everything in between. Tubbo stares at it for a long while, waiting for the familiar heartbreaking sadness to wash over him in a flood. It never does; instead, there's just a dull numbness, but more than that, there's a spark of anger, lighting a fire in his heart. He can almost picture Tommy as if he was right in front of him, could almost hear Tommy's voice as if he was calling out to him.

"Tubbo." Full of fake friendship, fake kindness, fake excitement. "Tubbo!" Full of months of hurt and neglect and shattered dreams.  _ "Tubbo!" _ Full of grating annoyance and jealousy and disgust.

"Tubbo!" Full of- fear? 

Tubbo whirls around, so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't realized when the voices had gone from memories to reality. Tommy Innit stands behind the fence, breathing raggedly, clutching it for support. His eyes are wide and frenzied, his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. "Tubbo," he gasps out again. "Holy shit, I've been running around looking everywhere-"

"Tommy?" he stammers, taking a step back. What the hell? "What are you doing here?" His words come out harsher than he'd meant them to- after all, he still needs Tommy to think he's on his side. 

"Wilbur's lost it," Tommy says, and Tubbo freezes in place.

"W-what?"

"Wilbur's lost it. Holy shit." Tommy drags his hands through his hair, chest heaving. "Holy shit, I don't know what to do, I've been looking for you-"

"Tommy, what's going on?!" Tubbo nervously scans the area, but no one's around save for his former friend. That doesn't mean that they're safe out here in the open, though, for any prying eyes to see.

"Wilbur's gone crazy." Tommy hops the fence, immediately slumping back against it. "Tubbo, I told him about the festival, and he just- he just- I don't know! He's out of his mind! He's saying we're the bad guys, and that he wants to be a villain, and- I can't tell you, but the festival's not gonna be a good day."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Tubbo tries to make sense of Tommy's onslaught of words. The festival? Wilbur? What the hell happened? 

"He wants to get rid of L'manberg. Says if he can't have it, no one can." Tommy meets his eyes pleadingly. "He's lost his fucking shit, Tubbo. He wants to blow up the festival, wants to rig the place with TNT. Says he's gonna detonate when you give your speech."

"TNT?" In his head, Tubbo attempts to match the description Tommy's giving him with the Wilbur he knows. It's next to impossible. Everything coming out of Tommy's mouth is absolutely crazy, and Tubbo wouldn't believe it if not for the horrified expression on Tommys' face.

"He doesn't trust anyone anymore." Tommy shakes his head ."He doesn't believe that you're here to help. He doesn't even think I'm here to help. He thinks it's too far gone."

Tubbo swallows hard, forcing himself to get a grip of his racing thoughts. "But- but why would he do that?"

"I dunno. He's gone crazy, Tubbo," Tommy whispers. "Wilbur's not the man he used to be. I can't- I have to stop him! You're all I have left, Tubbo."

_ Irony _ . The irony is laughable, almost. How easily their roles had been reversed, from Tubbo having no one aside from Tommy to Tubbo being the only person Tommy could turn to for help. It takes everything in him not to crack up, not to double over with wild laughter. Suddenly, he's the one above Tommy. Suddenly, he has the upper hand.

"Whatever happens, we have to trust each other," Tommy says urgently. "Tubbo, we've got to stick together."

"Right," Tubbo replies, excitement bubbling inside his chest. He knows he shouldn't be happy about this, knows he should be scared of whatever Wilbur's planning. But he's not. Instead, there's an awful thrill racing through his blood, adrenaline pumping. "Don't worry, Tommy. We'll figure this out."

Tommy seems to have calmed down by now, and he closes his eyes, mouth parted slightly. "He wants to make the festival the worst day of everyone's lives," he mumbles. "Don't trust anyone. Whatever you do, we can't give up on each other."

It's hilarious. It's a cruel joke played by the universe, but for once, Tubbo's not the butt of it. "Tell me everything, Tommy," he urges. "And let's stop him."

And Tommy does, Wilbur's plans and secrets spilling from him without care. How Wilbur is going to take a page from Dream's book and rig L'manberg with explosives, how he's going to detonate them during Tubbo's speech. How Dream's helping him, having given him the TNT himself. How he thinks Tommy is on his side and will help him carry out his plan.

When he's all finished, he asks quietly, voice small and defeated, "So what do we do, Tubbo?"

Tubbo's never heard Tommy like this before, never seen him so lost. And so he thinks, and he thinks some more. Finally, he reaches out and takes Tommy's hands, giving them a squeeze of reassurance. "We can stop him, Tommy. We stop him at the festival."

"What? What if we're too late?! That's- that's too risky!" Tommy's eyes widen further.

"No, no, listen," Tubbo continues. "We need to cut him off right then and there. If we do it too early, he has time for a backup plan. No, we do this at the festival. We'll figure out a plan, and we'll make sure nobody gets hurt. I promise, Tommy."

Tommy eats it right up like a starving dog. "Yeah, you're right," he breathes. "We can do it, can't we? We'll save the festival."

"You'll be a hero," Tubbo adds.

"Yeah."

"Hey." He gives Tommy's hands another squeeze before pulling away. "Let's meet tomorrow night. I'll figure out what I can do on my end, and you figure things out on yours."

"You won't tell Schlatt, will you?" Tommy asks uncertainly. "I mean... should we?"

"No, no, no telling Schlatt," Tubbo disagrees. "Just you and me. Trust no one, remember? We're all we have."

"Okay. Okay, yeah." His former friend nods, biting his lip. "Tomorrow night. We can do this."

"You should go now," Tubbo prompts him. "It would be real bad if someone saw us right now."

Tommy gives another nod of agreement, stepping back. "Thank you, Tubbo." He glances over his shoulder, hand set on the fence and body poised to jump over. "I knew I could trust you."

Another sick thrill erupts in Tubbo's chest. "Of course." He offers the other boy a reassuring smile. "We're in this together, Tommy. Till the very end."

*****

"Wilbur's gonna  _ what _ ?" Quackity exclaims.

Tubbo sits perched on the vice's bed, gnawing at his baked potato. "Blow up the festival when I give my speech," he repeats nonchalantly.

"What the fuck?!" Quackity begins pacing back and forth, holding his head in his hands. He feels like his brain is exploding, thoughts racing a mile a minute. "What the fuck! What's happening right now? Holy shit, we have a bomb threat! Are you even worried?! Oh god, we have to tell Schlatt!"

"No," Tubbo snaps, stopping the vice in his tracks. "We... we can't tell Schlatt. Because then he'll know I'm a spy, plus he'll want to stop it."

"Stop it? Of course he'll want to stop it! I want to stop it!" Quackity abruptly breaks off as he realizes just what Tubbo is really implying.  _ Oh?  _ "Wait... do we want to stop it? Hang on." He narrows his eyes, fixing his gaze on Tubbo. "You have an idea, don't you?"

"Maybe," Tubbo mumbles with a small shrug.

Alright, so he definitely does. "Okay, I'll stop panicking for exactly five minutes and you can tell me what you're thinking. Time starts now."

The boy clears his throat, taking another bite and chewing it thoughtfully. Once he's swallowed, he says, "Well... I mean, can't we take advantage of it? This is a plan Schlatt doesn't know about. and I'm about to form a plan with Tommy that Wilbur doesn't know about. Can't we use these in our favor? Form a plan of our own to get rid of both our problems at once?"

"What kind of plan?" Quackity raises his brows. He would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by whatever was going on in the kid's head. It was true that they possessed knowledge the other two sides weren't aware of, and knowledge is power.

"I think," Tubbo says slowly, staring at the wall as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. "That this would cause a lot of chaos, you know? And accidents can happen during chaos."

"You wanna kill Schlatt." Quackity cuts right to the chase.

"Yeah."

He ponders this for a moment, the wheels in his brain turning. "Wilbur blows up the place, we evacuate Schlatt somewhere... and kill him. What about Tommy and Wilbur? And Manberg's citizens?"

"I don't know." Sounding frustrated, Tubbo drags a hand through his hair. "I don't... have a plan yet. This is all so beyond me. But this might be the only chance we have to take out both our enemies at once! If we play this right..." he trails off, examining the potato in his hands before looking back up at Quackity. "I think we could pull it off."

The festival is about a week away. That was pretty short notice to plan an assassination attempt and stop a bomb threat... Yeah, Quackity likes these odds. It's the kind of crazy shit he's all about, and if Tubbo's on board, then by god so is he.

"You had me at ‘kill Schlatt’," he says, and Tubbo visibly brightens.

"Really? You think it's a good idea?" the secretary breathes.

"I think it's a mighty damn good one," Quackity replies. "So you're really ready for this, big man? We're going all in?"

"All in," Tubbo echoes, as if tossing the idea around.  _ All in _ . If they really did do this, there would be no turning back, no second chances. This festival was set to either be a disaster of epic proportions or the greatest day of their lives. "Yeah. I wanna do it, Quackity."

Quackity grins widely, a newfound excitement sparking in his veins and burning brightly against initial doubt. Yes, the more he thinks on it, the more he's growing attached to this idea. Tubbo's awfully smart for coming up with it- not that he's surprised, he's always known Tubbo was smart. There's a glint in the kid's eyes, the look of someone who's only just realized their true potential and the damage they could do if they wanted to.

"Then let's do it, man," Quackity says. "Let's kill the fucking president."


	8. the world is on its knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quackity and Tubbo plot to JFK a bitch. Tommy's along for the ride, or so he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAA it's festival day!! here's an update before shit hits the fan on the SMP :D <3 I've actually just about got my version of the festival written up, so I'm intrigued to see how different things end up being :P
> 
> Thank you all so so much again for all the love on this fic!!! I'm absolutely blown away by all the support and it really does mean the world to me <333 have an explosive day! :D

So how does one assassinate a president, anyways?

Quackity looks to history for the answer. JFK- shot in the head. Abraham Lincoln- shot in the head. Okay, so not much variety going on, but that's okay. They can work with that.

"So we shoot him?" Quackity suggests, flopped back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Two empty cups formerly holding coffee lay scattered across the floor, fueling this planning session. "He goes up to the mic, and we just- ya know, boom, wham, pop!"

"What are those sound effects?" Tubbo raises his brows. He's sitting in Quackity's chair, legs kicked up on his desk.

"The boom is like... the gunshot."

"We don't have guns."

"Okay, the boom is me yelling, then. The wham is for when he gets hit. And the pop is for the champagne we're gonna enjoy when it's all over."

"I'm sixteen, Big Q," Tubbo groans.

"Live a little on the edge!"

"Alcohol aside, shooting him right there probably isn't a good idea," Tubbo muses. "Too many people, and too much could go wrong. If we're gonna kill him, we should do it privately. So we don't get, like, arrested."

"What if we get Tommy to kill him?" Quackity says next. "That way there's no blood on our hands."

"Really? You wanna let  _ Tommy _ do it?"

"Eh, not really. I'd rather do it myself, honestly. More fun that way. I'm just real bloodthirsty, you know? That's what they call me. Bloodthirsty Q."

Tubbo tosses a cup at him, and it hits him on the head. "Ah, the agony!" Quackity cries dramatically, reaching up a trembling hand toward the ceiling. "I've been hit... killed by my own best friend... This is the end, isn't it?"

In response, Tubbo throws another cup.

"Betrayal! The horror! Now who'll have the fattest ass in the cabinet...?" He lets his arm collapse back to his side, turning his head sideways and closing his eyes. "Alas, I am no more..."

"Oh, gee, what a shame," Tubbo says sarcastically. "He'll be dearly missed."

Quackity's eyes pop back open to find his friend grinning ear to ear, and he waves a hand dismissively. "You're right, though. If we get Tommy involved, things get too messy... He'll just come for us next."

"We have to do it ourselves," Tubbo resolves.

So they need to find a place to do the dirty deed. Suggestions are thrown out carelessly, some more serious than others. "The bunker." "The tunnels?" "Niki's bakery." "My house." "Your house?" "Tommy's old house." "Out in the forest." "The bathroom-" "Oh, so you wanna kill him while he's pissing?" "Maybe he'd be shitting. Don't make assumptions, Tubbo."

"What's a place we could realistically get him to?" Tubbo takes another sip of his coffee, and Quackity can practically see the gears in his head turning. "I mean, think about the circumstances. We're at the festival, maybe things get blown up- what do we do?"

"Well, if the bombs go off... We'd have an excuse to evacuate him somewhere," Quackity begins, tapping his chin. "Somewhere safe. Somewhere private."

"What's nearby?"

"The white house," Quackity immediately says. Tubbo locks eyes with him and grins, and they know it's settled.

So here's the order of events:

"Before you give your speech, we tell Schlatt there's a bomb threat and get him into the white house?"

"No, he'd ask too many questions."

"Do we tell him about Wilbur ahead of time, then?"

"No, no, can't do that."

"So you go up to give your speech, and then- Wilbur detonates the bombs? No, no way. Um, we get Tommy to dismantle them-"

"I give my speech and let the bombs detonate," Tubbo says, voice deathly serious and without a trace of humor in it.

"Umm..." Quackity waits for a moment for the kid to start laughing and wave it off as a joke, but he doesn't. "You want to get blown to kingdom come?"

"We have to let those bombs detonate, Big Q." Tubbo picks at a loose thread on his suit, eyes distant. "We need the chaos to kill Schlatt."

"You'll- you'd die!" Quackity sputters unintelligibly, sitting up straight on the bed. "Or maybe you wouldn't  _ die _ , but you'd be hurt, and-"

"No, I'll be fine." Tubbo swallows hard, chewing absently at his lip. He's silent for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in thought, then he says, "We get Tommy to signal me or something when Wilbur's about to detonate. Then I ender pearl over to the white house and meet you and Schlatt."

"Can you do it?" Despite the confidence in Tubbo's voice, Quackity doesn't feel the same. It's not that he thinks Tubbo isn't capable, it's just that... Well, it's such a close call. There's too much room for error, and if the timing isn't exactly right, shit would hit the fan way too quickly. The image of Tubbo's scorched body lying broken across the ground flashes through his head, and he quickly banishes the idea. No, he can't think like that.

"I can," Tubbo replies readily. "So you just focus on getting Schlatt away, and I'll focus on my thing."

Quackity wants to say no, wants to veto the idea. He wants to say "no fucking way, we're not risking that", wants to keep his friend out of harm's reach. But instead he swallows his reservations and says, "Okay. If you think you can do it, I believe in you too."

So Wilbur sets off the bombs, Quackity gets Schlatt to the white house, and Tubbo ender pearls over to join them. That was a pretty good base for a plan, and now they just had to figure out all the little details, like how to save everyone in Manberg from getting blown to smithereens. And how to stop Tommy and Wilbur from taking them down after. And how to kill Schlatt in the first place. And- okay, so maybe there was still a lot left to sort out, but it's fine, everything's fine.

"Can we distance the stands from the stage, somehow?" Tubbo questions, dragging a hand through his hair. "If we can somehow focus the TNT on the stage and keep everyone a safe bit away, we can limit the casualties."

"Focus the TNT on the stage?"

"You know. We move it all there, somehow, without Wilbur noticing. As long as we keep the stage clear, the worst that's gonna happen to anyone is a few broken bones. Nothing a healing potion can't fix." Tubbo shrugs casually, as if they're discussing what to have for lunch instead of the pros and cons of letting a bunch of bombs be set off. "Then it's just me in real danger."

Quackity hesitates before answering, doubt creeping into his mind once more. "I guess. Would that even work, though? Could we change the bombs' position in time without Wilbur noticing? Would we need Tommy in on it?"

"Maybe. I'll have to think about it."

Letting out a long sigh, Quackity prepares to collapse down on his bed when his eyes fall on the clock. "Dammit, it's been too long. We should split and head back before Schlatt figures something's up."

"Yeah." Tubbo pushes himself to his feet, straightening his suit jacket. "I'm meeting with Tommy tonight, so I'll tell him what we're thinking. Anything else I should mention to him, in case we don't get another chance to talk?"

Quackity stands as well, stretching with a loud yawn while he considers this. "Hmmm... maybe ask him how Wilbur's planning on planting the TNT? I dunno. Just anything that could really help solidify our plan to get everything under the stage." A thought occurs to him. "What if we got Wilbur on the stage?"

"When the bombs go off?"

"I dunno, maybe. Like... if he doesn't know they're under there, and we somehow got him to stand there, we could take him out. Just a thought. I mean, I dunno if we wanna kill him or what..."

"I'll think about it," Tubbo says again, tone quieter than before.

And so the foundation was laid.

*****

Tommy's already there when Tubbo arrives at the tree that night, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in his pockets. It's a chilly night, with the kind of wind that brushes icy fingers in warning against any bare skin brave enough to show its face. Tubbo's wearing his suit jacket, curling into it to soak up the warmth it offered.

"Oh, thank god," Tommy says as soon as he spots him. "Geez, I wasn't sure if I could get away from Pogtopia for a hot minute. Told Wilbur I was just going on reconnaissance."

"We should make this quick, then," Tubbo answers, scanning the clearing briefly. "Right, did you find anything new out?"

The other boy shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. "Not really, no. All I know is Techno's in on it too. This is bad, Tubbo, it's real bad-"

"Hey, it's okay," Tubbo quickly reassures him. "We're gonna figure this out. I've already got half a plan, yeah?"

"Really?" Tommy says it like he can't actually believe it, like the thought of Tubbo with a plan is ridiculous. "Well, thank god for that," he adds, as if to soften the blow.

Tubbo thinks back on what Quackity had said, on the plan they had begun to form. He makes up his mind right then and there. "Can you get Wilbur to come onto the stage?"

"The stage? Like... where you're giving your speech?"

"Yeah, the only stage," Tubbo scoffs. "Listen, if you can get him to go up there, I can stop him from detonating the bombs. He doesn't know I know, so he won't expect it. He'll probably think I'll let him march right up, since I'm on your side and all."

"I guess." Tommy furrows his brows, a frown tugging at his lips. "How're you gonna stop him?"

"I dunno. Tackle him or something."

"And why would he even go to the stage?" Tommy begins pacing back and forth, maybe to keep warm or to get out his restless energy. "I mean, the festival security is gonna be tight, right?"

"Not really. I've seen Big Q's plans- they want the people's focus to be on the festival, not on guard duties," Tubbo tells him. "I think it could be possible. And as for why... You'd have to think of a reason. You could say it's to... announce the fall of L'manberg or something. To give some kind of farewell or warning. Wilbur's into that shit, right?"

"He is quite the one for dramatics," Tommy agrees. He drags a hand through his hair, lapsing into silence for a brief few moments before saying, "Okay, yeah, I'll think of something. I'll get him up on that stage."

"And then I'll take him out," Tubbo replies. "Before he can detonate."

"Can you do that?" Tommy narrows his eyes, meeting his stare.

He doesn't sound anything like Quackity had when he'd asked the same question-  _ "Can you do it?"  _ Quackity's words had come from a place of concern; Tommy's came from a place of doubt. He didn't think Tubbo was capable of it, didn't think he could actually manage to stop Wilbur before the man blew them all to kingdom come.

"Of course I can," Tubbo says with a small smile, not a hint of bitterness in his voice. "He won't expect it from me of all people."

"You can't fuck up," Tommy warns. "If he detonates, it's over for everyone. Are you sure-"

"I'm positive. Just get him on the stage, and I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay then. So that's our plan?"

"Basically."

"It's shit."

"I know."

Tommy cracks a grin. "Fantastic. What are we supposed to do after, though? Won't Schlatt arrest him?"

"We can get him out of prison." Tubbo waves aside his concerns with a vague gesture. "That's a temporary thing. What we can't reverse, though, is L'manberg going kablooey."

"Right, yeah, you're right," his former friend mutters. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we've gotta focus on stopping Wilbur's newfound love for explosives."

"Should we meet again soon?" Tubbo questions, toeing at one of the gnarled roots with a polished shoe. "In case something comes up, or we need to change our plans."

"How 'bout... Saturday? That's about halfway between now and the festival," Tommy suggests. "And if something urgent comes up, I can always come find you."

"You probably shouldn't do that."

"Right, I'd forgotten how adamant you are at keeping me away from my own country." Tommy rolls his eyes with a loud huff. "So what if there is an emergency? What do you want me to do?"

"Figure it out." The words come out a bit harsher than he would've liked, and he hurries to reign himself back in. He can deal with Tommy's antics for another week- after that, he would never have to again. The thought of the light at the end of the tunnel gives him the push he needs to grit his teeth and bear it. "Leave a message by your old house," he amends. "I'll check by it regularly."

"Okay, sounds good." Tommy exhales, a long and weary sound that makes Tubbo feel tired. "This is going to work, right? We're gonna be fine?"

"As long as everything goes to plan, then yeah," Tubbo reassures. "And it will, if we're careful."

There's something almost fun about playing the puppet master, about tugging just the right strings to make the people around him do what he wants. Wilbur, Schlatt... and Tommy especially, so easily pushed and manipulated into what he thinks is a plan to hand him victory on a silver platter. Tommy is a hero in his own mind, and he'll rush into battle under the slightest prompting. Yes, Tubbo thinks, this  _ will _ go according to plan- just not the plan Tommy thinks it is. Those bombs are going to detonate, and it's going to be absolutely glorious to see the look on his old friend's face when it hits him just how completely and utterly he'd underestimated him.

And he knows he shouldn't be enjoying it as much as he does, knows he should be feeling guilty and upset, knows he should be resigned that this is for the greater good. But he can't deny the sick thrill it gives him to be above it all, to hold all the cards when the rest had none. Is this how Schlatt felt? Is this the future he was working toward, what Quackity was working toward? 

He can get used to this, he decides as he says goodbye to Tommy and turns to head back for Manberg, back to tell Quackity of the next brick laid in the foundation of their plan. Tommy Innit makes for a fine pawn indeed.


	9. no rest for the wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days leading up to the festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo montage chapter!! :D
> 
> so... the festival yesterday, huh? :P I'm still reeling, and I've got a looot of streams to rewatch. So many new fic ideas... Hopefully you all had fun!! :D It's been so much fun getting to chat with you all, you're all so sweet! <33 have a wonderful day!

_ Thursday _

"So we're killing Wilbur," Quackity says bluntly.

"Well, we're not  _ killing _ him," Tubbo amends. "His armor will probably protect him from that. We're just... You know, he might  _ happen _ to get caught in an explosion- which he caused himself!"

"Oh, my bad, let me rephrase," the vice gives a loud snort, words dripping with amusement. "So we're moving all the TNT to directly under the place where Wilbur will be standing, which may or may not cause him to die."

"Tommy'll make sure Wilbur gets up to the stage." Tubbo taps his fingers against his knees, thoughts racing a mile a minute through his head. "He thinks I'm just going to stop him from detonating."

"Right... So all we have to do is figure out a way to safely get the TNT under the stage and away from literally everywhere else without both Wilbur and Tommy noticing." Quackity adjusts his sunglasses, eyebrows raising sky high. "Yessir, that won't be hard at all."

"And Techno," Tubbo adds.

"Great, even better!"

"We'd have to do it right before the festival." Tubbo leans back in his chair, eyes tracing the cracks and crevices in Quackity's ceiling. "I could tell Tommy to make sure Wilbur and Techno don't leave Pogtopia before it happens. Make sure he keeps an eye on them."

"Yeah, don't give them a chance to check. It could work." Quackity nods his head slowly, no doubt turning over the idea in his head. "It's risky, though. If even one of them takes a quick peek..."

"We're screwed," Tubbo finishes. "I know."

The mood in the room sours, then Quackity brightens considerably. "Well, what fun's a plan without life-threatening danger?"

*****

_ Friday _

At long last, Quackity's finalized festival plans have been approved by Schlatt. It's been a long, hard week of rejections and revisions, but it seems like the president has finally found them to his liking.  _ Schlatt's perfect event for Schlatt's perfect world. _

"This is good," the man says, setting them down on the desk and meeting the vice's stare. "But for the time it took you, it should be  _ great _ ."

"Well, I don't exactly have a PHD in festival planning," Quackity jokes. Tubbo probably would've laughed at that- Tubbo laughs at everything dumb he says. Schlatt does not.

"You're the vice president of Manberg, Quackity," Schlatt's voice takes on a darker tone. "It's time that maybe you start taking things more seriously around here."

"You know me, sir. I'm absolutely incapable of taking anything seriously."

"So I've noticed," Schlatt mutters, then glances over the plans once more. "Big Q, do you know why you're Vice President?"

"Because of my fat ass?"

"Because you gave me votes, Quackity." Schlatt sighs. He leans forward, folding his arms across the table. "You had something to offer me, and I had something to offer you. That's why our deal worked. But listen, listen... What do you have to offer me now?"

Quackity swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably under his stare. "Should I start listing my many redeeming qualities...?"

"What did I say about taking things more seriously?" Schlatt drags a hand through his hair, making a tsking sound like he's scolding a cat. "This is why you aren't fit to lead, Quackity, and you never will be."

The words sting, even though Quackity knows the other man is just trying to get under his skin. Or maybe there's some truth to it after all- Quackity's never been good at being serious, not even during the elections. Perhaps he wouldn't make the best leader. Perhaps things like this weren't meant for men like him.

Only time would tell. Too bad Schlatt wouldn't be around to see it.

"Thanks for the feedback!" Quackity says, ever cheerful. He pushes the chair back and rises to his feet one smooth motion. "It's always appreciated."

Schlatt's nostrils flare briefly, and as Quackity turns his back, he can practically feel the president's eyes burning into him as he exits the office.

*****

_ Saturday _

Tubbo meets with Tommy once more under the blanket of night, hiding their conversation from prying ears and eyes. Tubbo weaves his lies in a glorious tapestry, prodding his unwitting pawn right along.

"You've gotta keep Techno and Wilbur inside Pogtopia the day of the festival," he tells his former friend, urgency in his voice. "You can do that, right?"

"Of course I can," Tommy scoffs, his pride taking the bait. "Why, though?"

"It's too dangerous if they go near during that time. Someone might spot them, and security would tighten. That would pretty much ruin our plan." Tubbo shakes his head. "So just keep them close until it's time for Wilbur to go up on stage."

"Yeah, I guess," the other boy muses, furrowing his brows. "I'll tell Wilbur, then. Play along, tell him we can't risk someone discovering the bombs, so we just leave 'em."

"That's perfect," Tubbo smiles encouragingly, convincingly. "Whatever you do, you can't let him do anything that could throw us off plan. This is our one chance to stop him, alright?"

"I won't fail." Tommy's fists clench at his sides, and he gives a determined nod. "Don't worry, man, I'll do my part. Worry about your own, yeah?."

Tubbo's grin turns a little more dangerous, eyes glinting in the moonlight. "You got it."

*****

_ Sunday _

"Niki, I think you should stay home," Tubbo says. "From the festival, I mean."

He's sitting by the counter of the bakery, watching the girl shape dough into a pie crust. She pauses to wipe sweat from her forehead with one arm, glancing back at him. "Where's this coming from all of a sudden? I thought you were looking forward to my stall," she teases. "Quackity's already threatened to eat me out of business."

"Umm..." Tubbo fumbles for a moment to find an excuse, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. "I just... I dunno, do you really want to be supporting an event like this? Wilbur might get upset."

"Wilbur isn't the boss of me," Niki scoffs lightly, giving a playful eye roll. Her smile drops when she sees the serious look that's formed across Tubbo's face. Immediately, she's abandoned her work, coming to stand by the counter across from him. "Hey, come on, what's wrong? Talk to me."

He gives a small shrug, averting his gaze. What on earth was he supposed to say?  _ I don't want you at the festival in case our plan goes wrong and we all get blown to shit. I don't want you to watch Wilbur get blasted to pieces. I don't want you to see what I've done.  _

"Tubbo," she murmurs, reaching over the counter to take his hand. Her grip is warm and calloused, palms sprinkled with flour. "This is going to be amazing, okay? You and Quackity have put so much work into it, and you should be allowed to feel excited.  _ I'm _ excited, I can't wait to see everything you've done and hear your speech. So don't worry much about Wilbur, alright? We're going to have a blast."

If only it were that simple. If only the baker really knew what was going on, what would go down at the festival. 

"Yeah," he echoes quietly. "A  _ blast _ ."

Niki grins, drawing her hand back. "Alright, so no more sulking around. I wanna see a smile on that face! You've done well, Tubbo."

"Thanks, Niki." He rubs the back of his neck, guilt rising in his throat like bile he can't swallow back.

"And I better see you at my stall," she threatens jokingly, pointing a finger at him. "Or we're gonna have a problem."

Bright laughter fills the bakery, and it reminds Tubbo of just what he needs to protect.

*****

_ Monday _

"Hold it steady!" Quackity shrieks, nearly falling off the ladder. Tubbo's down at the base of it, gripping it for dear life. "Dear god, I'm gonna crack my head open!"

"Sorry!" the boy cries, practically hugging the rungs. "Stop moving around so much!"

"Don't pin this on me!"

The two are working on festival setup, the grand event being in less than two days. Currently, Quackity's attempting to decorate the stage, and Tubbo has taken a break from prettying up the many stalls they had assembled to help him. It's going about as well as can be expected. Technically, Tubbo was in charge of decorations and setup, but obviously Quackity couldn't leave his friend to do all the work by himself. Besides, safe opportunities for them to work together outside the privacy of their homes didn't come around often, and there's no way Schlatt could find any harm in their labor. 

The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky with oranges and indigos, and the night air is warm with the promise of good weather. Cheerful conversation and warm laughter lights up the area carved out for the festival, the mood surprisingly good for everything that's about to happen. Quackity's grateful for it- between all the planning and stressing, they haven't had much of a chance to just hang out like this, free of everything burdening them down.

He finishes fixing the banner and starts to climb down, rattling the ladder once more and causing Tubbo to shriek indignantly. As soon as his feet are back on solid ground, he nudges the kid with his elbow. "Hey, this is looking pretty good! We'll definitely be done by tomorrow."

Tubbo surveys their work, the bright colored stalls lit with gentle candlelight, the minigames and festivities rigged by various members of the server, and the newly rebuilt and redecorated stage. He sets his hands on his hips, a grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah. It's real pretty," he says wistfully, the look in his eyes turning forlorn.

Quackity turns his head to the side to study him, biting his lip. "You alright?" he tentatively asks, hoping he's not overstepping. Despite his offer that he was always open to talk, Tubbo hadn't taken him up on it. Not that Quackity wants to shake him down for information, it was more that he's concerned. Obviously, something had happened, and bottling up emotions never did anyone much good.

"Yeah," Tubbo answers, still staring out at the festival grounds. "It's just... Nice. I feel happy, I think."

"Weird time for that," Quackity teases, elbowing him again. Tubbo chuckles, hitting him gently back. "It is nice, though," he adds. "We don't get many peaceful moments like this."

"Yeah," the kid agrees softly. 

Quackity sets an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a headlock. Tubbo protests loudly, though he doesn't move to push away. The vice president lightly ruffles the boy's hair, sweeping out his other hand in a grand gesture. "This is it, man. This is the future. No more Schlatt or Pogtopia, just us and the whole wide world."

"I'd like that," Tubbo breathes, the moon swimming through his hopeful eyes.

Quackity wants nothing more than to give it to him.

*****

_ Tuesday _

Fundy is leaning against one of the stalls, adjusting his tie. "Hey, Tubbo."

Tubbo nearly drops his bag of decorations. Fundy certainly wasn't the man he was expecting to see on the festival grounds. In fact, Tubbo had expected to be alone- he's just here to do some final touch ups. Even though he knows this is all going to be blown off the face of the earth, he's still proud of it, and he wants to make it absolutely perfect. Not for Schlatt, he could care less about the president, but for Quackity. His friend had put so much blood and sweat into the planning, so Tubbo's going to make sure the finished product is worth it.

"Er, hi, Fundy!" he raises a hand with a small grin. "What's up?"

"Just checking in." The fox hums, tail swishing absently back and forth. He scans the many stalls a few times before saying, "Looks nice."

"Aw, gee, thanks."

"You nervous?"

The question takes him by surprise.  _ Nervous _ was an understatement. Tomorrow, he's going to go up onto a podium riddled with TNT, and he's either going to die a painful, explosive death or come out with more power than he's ever had in his life. There were so many things that could go wrong, a million paths this could lead them down, and if everything didn't go exactly according to plan, the future would no doubt hold iron bars and a cold prison cell.

"I guess," he says out loud. "I mean, I've never given a speech before."

"I'm sure you'll do fine." Fundy's words are kind, but there's something Tubbo can't quite place in his beady eyes. "Listen, Tubbo. We've known each other for a while, yeah?"

Tubbo isn't sure where this is going, but he nods his head.

"Can you be straight with me?" Fundy locks eyes with him. "Do you know where Tommy and Wilbur are?"

Tubbo's eyes widen, yet again caught off guard. "No," he quickly says, and it's the truth. He doesn't know where Pogtopia is, no matter how much he's begged and pleaded to be let in. "Why?" he adds carefully, trying to gauge the other's reaction.

Fundy doesn't even blink. "Okay," he replies steadily. "No real reason. Just surprised they'd leave you of all people behind."

What a shitty thing to say, even if it's true. "Is that all?" he scowls, lip curling, and Fundy seems to take the hint. 

"Yeah. Have fun decorating." The fox strides right past him as if he didn't even exist.

Well, that was a weird encounter. Tubbo tries to shrug it off, his mind already turning back to the decorations he'd be putting up, but something about it lingers with him even as he gets to work. Tomorrow is the festival, tomorrow is the day he finally rights all the wrongs done to him and Quackity, and he can't afford to be preoccupied by stupid things.

The sun sets and rises, and then it's

_ Wednesday. _


	10. that out of hell leads up to light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festival begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paradise Lost: exists  
> Me taking quotes for chapter titles: it's free real estate
> 
> Welp, shit's about to start going down! :D I hope you all enjoy this version of the festival events- I did write them before the canon ones so I wouldn't feel locked into anything. Here's one of the last few times everyone gets to have fun, the eye of the storm if you will. Have a wonderful day!! <33

The gentle breeze carries happy laughter and chatter across the festival grounds, not to be overshadowed by the festive music from Schlatt's personal playlist. All around are smiling faces and excited cries as prizes are won and goods are exchanged, the glow of the afternoon sun basking the gathered people with its gentle beams. Persons from all corners of the world had come to join the festivities, and there's no doubt in anyone's minds- this is quite the fantastic event Manberg has put together.

As Tubbo strolls by the stalls, watching the crowd enjoy his and Quackity's work, he decides he's going to have fun. No thinking about assassinations, Wilbur, or everything that could go wrong. He'd already woken up bright and early to move all the TNT to under the stage, so everything was out of his hands until the moment of truth. Why not enjoy himself until then? Right now he's just another part of the festival crowd, swept away by the contagious excitement passed on from person to person.

"Tubbo!" Niki's voice filters above the conversations taking place, and he turns to see her waving wildly at him from her stall. Her bakery's booth had quickly gained popularity, and Tubbo's already passed by people digging into her baked goods.

A smile growing across his face, Tubbo jogs over to join her, moving past the line. "Niki! Hey, you look... good."

And it's true. There's a glow across Niki's expression that he hasn't seen in forever, and her eyes are bright. She laughs, reaching over the counter to ruffle his hair, despite his overdramatic protesting. "This is great, Tubbo! Eret offered to take a shift in a bit so I get a chance to check the place out, and now I'm counting the minutes."

Tubbo's grin widens. "It is quite nice, isn't it? Everyone seems like they're having a lot of fun."

"I bet they are." Abruptly, Niki holds up a finger. "Oh, hey, I've got something for you!" From a chest, she pulls a small parcel and passes it to him eagerly.

With clumsy fingers, he unwraps it to find a small bag of still warm chocolate chip cookies. "Oh, these look great," he gasps, mouth watering at the sight. "How much for it?"

"Just take it," she chuckles, shaking her head. "You deserve it. Make sure to share some with Quackity, or he'll be over here complaining about it to me."

"Thanks, Niki," he says softly, tucking the bag under his arm. "I'm sure Big Q'll love it."

"Now, I've gotta get back to work, so have enough fun for the both of us, alright?" Niki gives him an encouraging thumbs up, already turning back to serve the next customer.

"I will!" he promises, waving before starting off and leaving her to her baking.

Opening the bag, he withdraws a cookie and takes a bite as he walks. It's absolutely delicious, and he can't wait to devour the rest. Sapnap barrels past him, Dream hot in pursuit- the two are laughing about something, and he hears Dream shout "give that back!". Near the ice skating rink, he sees Badboyhalo stumbling across the surface on shaking legs while Skeppy cheers him on nearby. Antfrost leans against one of the stalls, chatting it up with Eret. A few people call out to him as he passes, complimenting his work, and he gives a bashful wave in return.

Finally, he finds the man he'd been looking for by the minigames- Quackity, with George at the high striker strength game.

"I've totally got this," George is saying, hefting the hammer.

"Win me something, Goggy!" Quackity jokes, watching in anticipation.

George brings the hammer down onto the target, and the bar barely goes up. Quackity immediately bursts into laughter, covering his mouth and pointing at his friend. In revenge, George lightly hits him with the hammer on the shoulder, causing Quackity to stumble back dramatically, clutching his heart.

"Hey," Tubbo greets, hiding his grin.

"Please tell me you didn't see that," George immediately says, expression hidden by his goggles.

"Hey, Tubbo, watch how a real man does this." Quackity snatches the hammer from the other man, flexing one muscle.

Tubbo snorts, folding his arms and standing by George. "Okay, 'real man'. I'm waiting."

Quackity lifts the hammer over his head and slams it down aggressively. The bar shoots up- way past the target. The machine stays like that for a long while, lights stopping.

"I think you broke it," George says, unimpressed.

"Did not!" Quackity cries, and Tubbo laughs then. "I just gotta give it a good kick!" The vice proceeds to do exactly that, and after a moment the machine rumbles back to life, the bar sinking back down. "Well, I basically won."

"You way overshot it," George disagrees.

"I basically won!" Aggravated, Quackity turns to face Tubbo. "T-man! Settle this dispute once and for all before it tears apart our cabinet."

"Umm... I don't think breaking the machine counts as winning, Big Q," Tubbo answers slyly, and Quackity shrieks indignantly while George slaps his knee in victory.

"You try, then!" The vice president holds out the hammer to Tubbo, and he gingerly accepts it.

Testing the weight in his hands, he lifts it up, focusing on the target. When he hits it, the bar briefly flickers up before falling right back down.  _ Well, that's just embarrassing _ . Quackity cracks up again, and George just pats him on the back with a sad nod.

"We should get Schlatt down here to try," Quackity snorts, wiping his eyes. "I'd like to see  _ that _ ."

Tubbo sets the hammer back down by the machine for the next festival goer to try their luck. "Pfft, I wonder how much we'd have to pay him to get him to do it."

"Geooorge!" A voice calls, and Ninja joins them, immediately leaning on George's shoulder. "Goggy, you  _ promised _ you'd do the pie eating contest with me."

"Did I?" George replies, sounding defeated.

"Aw, come on, George, go eat some pies with your  _ husband _ ," Quackity teases, barely able to hide his laughter.

"Yeah, George," Ninja insists, hooking an arm through his. "It's about to start, we gotta get in!"

"When you guys see me next, I'll be crowned king of the pie eating contest," George tells Quackity and Tubbo seriously as Ninja begins to drag him off. "So watch your backs."

"Save me a pie!" Quackity yells.

"Have fun!" Tubbo waves, watching them disappear into the crowd.

Left alone with his friend, Quackity turns to face him. "So, Toobo, having fun?"

"Yeah, I am." Tubbo can't help but grin. "Oh, hey, I brought you some cookies! Gift from Niki." He offers him the bag, and Quackity immediately seizes it for himself. "Hey, not all of them!"

"You fool," Quackity cackles, holding the bag just out of reach and dancing away. "You should've never trusted me with this!"

Tubbo sighs, resigning himself to his cookie-less fate. "I'm gonna rat you out to Niki."

"I'll enjoy this while it lasts," Quackity bemoans.

As much as he'd love to stay here with his friend, laughing and joking around, Tubbo knows he needs to move on soon. "We shouldn't be together right now," he mumbles, shuffling his feet. "But I'm glad you seem to be having fun."

"Yeah," Quackity agrees with a small frown, then he immediately brightens, tousling Tubbo's hair. "I'll be with you in spirit! Think of me whenever you see a fat ass."

"Why would I be looking at asses?!"

"But seriously, kid," Quackity's voice loses its humor. "You did a real good job here. Like,  _ real _ good."

His words warm Tubbo's heart, and he replies, "No, you did a good job. This is all your planning! You should be remembered as the greatest party planner in history."

"Okay, okay, we  _ both _ did a good job," Quackity amends with a chuckle. "You did just as much as I did."

They stand there in silence for a few more wistful moments, staring out at the festival they'd thrown. The cheerful faces, the warm conversation, the hustle and bustle as people moved from one stall to the next. It really is a work of art, Tubbo thinks.

Too bad it's about to be blown to bits.

"I'm gonna go watch my gorgeous friend eat some pies," Quackity finally says, passing him back the bag of cookies. "Take care of these for me. Guard them with your life."

"Yes, sir," Tubbo teasingly rolls his eyes.

His friend melts into the festival crowd, and he's about to head off too when he senses a new presence at his side.

"Heyo," Fundy says, hands tucked neatly in his pockets. "I've been looking for you."

"Well... here I am," Tubbo keeps his tone light, unsure what the fox wants. "What's up?"

"Not much," Fundy returns. "Just wanted to compliment the festival. Schlatt's real impressed, and so's everyone else."

"Oh. Thanks." Tubbo is pleasantly surprised, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Um, cookie? They're Niki's." He holds the bag out in a peace offering.

Fundy readily accepts, pulling one from inside. "Hey, thanks, man. These are amazing."

"Yeah."

"Are you in need of some company?" Fundy changes the subject, glancing at him. "Looks like your friend just left."

Shit, did he mean Big Q? "We're not friends," Tubbo hurriedly says. Maybe a little too quickly, because he doesn't miss the way Fundy's eyes narrow. "Just coworkers."

"Sure, so that's why you spend all your free time at his house?" Fundy's next words make him freeze in place. "Why you're always together when Schlatt's not looking? Is Big Q who you meet with when you sneak off at night, or am I totally misreading things?"

Holy  _ shit _ . Tubbo's heart sinks in his chest like a stone, his blood running cold.

"And I know I probably sound real creepy now, that I've been keeping an eye on you," the other man chuckles with an off handed shrug. "But we're all members of the same cabinet, so I have... vested interests in this. So tell me, Tubbo, why are you keeping this a secret? Why did you lie to me, and why shouldn't I go tell Schlatt right now?"

Is this seriously how it ends? With Fundy of all people figuring it out, spying on them for God knows how long? What the hell is Tubbo even supposed to say now? This looks bad, this  _ is _ bad, this is the entire world crashing down on him before he can get a foothold.

So he blurts, "Because Schlatt told me to stay away from Quackity, alright?"

Fundy blinks, seemingly taken aback by the ready answer. "Why?"

"'Cause... Schlatt doesn't want me to have anyone to turn to outside of him." Hugging his arms against his chest, Tubbo averts his eyes. In this moment, he's just a child, a victim of a manipulative relationship, a lost boy in need of help. "He wants to manipulate me, and he can't do that properly if I have friends to watch out for me. So... I had to keep it a secret, alright?! I didn't know what he'd do to Quackity if he found out!"

And Fundy, the poor fool, eats the act right up. "Shit, Tubbo..." he murmurs, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tubbo nearly grins. "I'm sorry. I had no idea... Dammit, I should've been there for you." He swallows hard, guilt dripping from his words. "I should've seen what Schlatt was doing..."

"It's okay." Tubbo shrinks into himself a bit. "You had no way of knowing. It's fine, Fundy, really. Just-" he meets his eyes then, wide and fearful. "Please don't tell Schlatt."

"Of course not," Fundy immediately replies. "Don't even worry about it. God, I'm sorry, man. I really thought..." he trails off, then shakes his head. "If you ever need anything, I'll be here. Do you want to stick together?"

"Schlatt might get upset if he sees you with me," Tubbo mumbles carefully. "I don't want you to get hurt..."

"Don't worry about me. But if you're sure..."

Tubbo smiles up at him, bright and innocent. "I'll tell you if I need help, Fundy. Thank you for everything."

It's not like he's  _ lying _ to Fundy. Everything he's saying is true, he's just leaving out the whole bit about treason. That's what he tells himself, anyways, to keep the familiar guilt from twisting inside his chest. Besides, Fundy doesn't matter in the long run. So he bids the other a quiet farewell, starting off into the festival crowd once more. Hopefully, this crisis had been averted for now.

*****

The sun sinks lower and lower in the sky, and Quackity can almost feel every painful minute that passes.

He's been hanging out with George for most of the festival, though occasionally he stops to talk with other friends he passes by. Niki's bakery stall had definitely seen more than five visits from him. Sometimes, others join them for a bit- Sapnap, Ninja, even Dream once. Quackity's honestly surprised the masked man is even attending the festival at all, though he chose not to question it.

Him and George are leaning against one of the vacated stalls, enjoying a late dinner as they watch the sunset. Tubbo's speech is going to start soon, and after that, the fireworks would go off. Well, there definitely would be fireworks, alright; just not the kind that Schlatt had envisioned. Dread builds in his stomach at the thought of what'll happen next.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried sick about this plan, worried sick that it'll end with Tubbo trapped under a mound of rubble while him and Wilbur lay dying beside each other, worried sick that Schlatt'll catch on and throw them both into prison. But he can't show it; he's supposed to be enjoying the festivities, not moping around. So he keeps a smile plastered on his face, a skip in his step, a laugh in his voice. 

"God, I'm so full from all those pies." George groans, resting a hand on his stomach. "I don't even think I can finish this."

"Was it worth it?" Quackity asks solemnly, raising his brows. "You won... but at what cost?"

"I'm going to die."

"So overdramatic," he rolls his eyes, nudging his friend with his elbow.

George absently checks his watch. "Your friend's speech is probably about to begin. If we wanna grab good seats, we should head over now."

Quackity swallows the last bit of his food, wiping his hands against his suit pants to clean them. "Yeah. Um, how about we sit toward the back? You know, get a real unique angle."

"The back?" George scoffs. "You're a real weirdo. Whatever you say, man."

They start back toward the stage, passing by stalls beginning to close and festival goers migrating in the same direction. The stands are already filling up, and Quackity scans the area, looking for a peek of Tubbo's brown locks. He can't find the boy anywhere- he's no doubt preparing to go on. Though he wishes he had a chance to see him one last time, to wish him luck and tell him to be careful, Quackity instead searches for a seat a good distance away from the blast zone.

"Big Q!" someone calls, and Quackity turns his head to see Schlatt striding up to him. "Hey, George," the president adds, nodding his head politely to the other man.

"Hey, Schlatt," George returns. "Hey, er, Quackity, I'm gonna go on ahead."

"Yeah, you do that." Quackity is barely paying attention to his gorgeous friend now, his gaze now instead fixed on Schlatt. The president has a powerful presence about him, one that commands attention and demands to be obeyed. Even Quackity can't help but become enthralled by it, if only a little; it's hard to resist. With Schlatt standing in front of him, it feels like they're the only two parts of the whole wide world that mattered.

"Come stand with us," Schlatt says pointedly, angling his head toward the stage. "You're the vice president, Quackity. Don't sit in the audience with the rest of these guys. You're not one of them."

Well, here's where their plan starts. How the hell is Quackity supposed to get Schlatt  _ not _ by the stage? They can't have him killed in the explosion- Tubbo has an ender pearl, so it would be extremely suspicious if he got away but the president didn't. To anyone with half a brain, it would start to smell like treason. No, Quackity needs Schlatt somewhere where he can easily sweep him away to the white house. 

"Shouldn't you want to be among your people, Schlatt?" Quackity questions, adjusting his sunglasses. "After all, this festival is meant to represent unity. Wouldn't they feel more connected with you if you were a part of the crowd?"

"Since when do you give me advice?" Schlatt snorts, eyebrows shooting toward the sky.

"Schlatt, these people already feel alienated from you," he presses, doing his best to sound convincing. "Don't separate yourself further. Grab a seat, strike up a conversation, and let the force of good old social interaction do the work for you."

"A conversation," Schlatt repeats, like it's the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Well, whatever. I'm sure one of these people are bound to be interesting."

_ Score _ . 

"Get me a good seat, then," the president orders. "I'll come back once I've announced the speech."

"Yessir!" Quackity flashes him a quick salute. As Schlatt heads off, he breathes a sigh of relief, holding a hand to his heart. "I am so fucking brilliant," he mutters to himself, starting back into the stands to go bully some unsuspecting citizens into giving up their chairs.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between!" The boom of Schlatt's voice fills the festival grounds just as Quackity is settling his fat ass into a seat. The crowd's murmuring immediately dies down, a fire extinguished by the words of the man speaking. The last few people begin to trickle in, sitting where they could.

"Well, we've got quite the group here," Schlatt continues, surveying the mass below him. "So may I be the first to say that Manberg's first Festival of Unity has been a smashing success?"

A cheer picks up, sweeping like wildfire through the crowd. Quackity's heart begins to pound, anticipation and adrenaline already starting to build. Holy shit, he shouldn't be this nervous, but he is anyways. In fact, he feels a bit like throwing up right about now.

"Alright, alright, you aren't here to listen to me go on and on all day." Schlatt holds up his hands to hush the clamor. "So please allow me the honor of introducing the inspiration for this event. My right hand man, everyone, Tubbo!"

He steps away from the mic as a cheer picks up again, and then Tubbo is stepping onto the stage. His hair is perfectly combed back, his suit perfectly ironed, his tie perfectly straightened. He holds himself with a confidence Quackity has never seen before, marching right up to the podium and taking Schlatt's place. A wide smile spreads across his face, his cheeks flushed red with excitement. There's a radiance about him, like he's some sort of prophet sent by god, and everyone was born just to listen to him.

_ Pride _ is the new feeling rising in Quackity's gut. He's proud of the kid, proud of how far he's come, proud of everything he's done. Tubbo deserves to give this speech, deserves it more than anyone else in the world. He claps wildly along with the crowd, the corners of his mouth curling upward. All his fears wash away in the pure wonder of this moment. 

Schlatt is already walking away from the stage, leaving Tubbo the sole figure standing there.  _ Good, this is good _ . The kid clears his throat, adjusting his tie, and the crowd begins to quiet down once more.

When the stands are completely silent, the audience and the setting sun poised with anticipation, he opens his mouth and says, "Hi, everyone."


	11. roses set on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go off with a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, I can't believe we're nearly at 800 kudos? That's insane, thank you guys so so much!! :D We're reaching the end of this fic, I'm actually about to start writing the last chapter soon, and it's been an amazing ride. Thanks for sticking through it with me :D <3 
> 
> Enjoy all the shit about to go down, and have a wonderful day! <3

Tubbo's never had stage fright before. Probably because he's never had the chance to experience it, but that's a bit besides the point. Now, though, he knows exactly how it feels- his stomach is a turmoil of nerves, his legs are shaking so bad he's sure everyone in the crowd can tell, and his throat is so dry, he can barely speak. He's half sure he's about to drop dead.

"Hi, everyone," he manages out. Holy shit, that's a lot of people. Why are there so many people? Were there this many people before? Oh god, he's definitely going to puke, and then Schlatt'll get mad at him for ruining his suit, and that's a whole other mess, and-

As he's staring dumbfounded at the crowd, he spots the familiar hue of Quackity's beanie. For just an instant, the two lock eyes, and his friend gives him a discreet thumbs up. The vice president is practically beaming, and the joy in his gaze makes Tubbo feel like he can do anything in that moment.

A sudden rush of courage filling him, he grips the podium tightly with his hands and begins. "Citizens of this great country, we gather here today under the security of our president, our flag, and our country's borders. Manberg and its people have been through a lot, have fought tooth and nail to get where we are today." He swallows hard. "A wise man once told me that at some point, we have to decide what we want and what we'll do to get it. I think he was right.

"It's always a hard thing to say goodbye to a ruler and goodbye to an era. Wilbur Soot gave us this country, and now he's entrusted it to our hands. Instead of taking care of it, though, we've grown divided with infighting and distrust. Let's not forget what we've sacrificed for this land, and let's be sure not to throw it all away."

Pausing briefly to collect his thoughts, he quickly forges on. "We need to decide what we want, here and now. A country of unrest, or a country of unity? A world where we can't even trust our neighbors, or a world of prosperity and safety? These friendships born through blood and tears will not be so easily broken. Home is where the heart is, and our hearts are in Manberg, regardless of what flag flies over us or what leader rules over us."

The crowd is completely hushed, entranced by his every word. They lean forward in their seats, and the attention nearly chokes him up once more. But despite the terror racing through his veins, threatening to freeze him in place, there's another feeling rising to challenge it.  _ Good _ . He feels good. Powerful, even. In what universe would anyone ever expect Tubbo to deliver a speech like this? Certainly not any Tommy could imagine.

The thrill of it carries him onward, gives his words a firm confidence. "So let's keep our eyes set on unity, and let's strive toward a brighter future together. Let's decide what we want, and what we'll do to get it. We've sacrificed so much, and we'll have to sacrifice even more." Squaring his shoulders, he continues, "I believe it'll be worth it. Together, we'll make sure it's worth it."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," a voice says from behind, and Tubbo doesn't have to look to know it belongs to Wilbur Soot.

Immediately, the festival goers break into a confused clamor. In the audience, Tubbo spots Schlatt shooting to his feet, Quackity right at his side. He then loses sight of them as Wilbur abruptly slams his head down on the podium, dark spots swiftly obscuring his vision. A short cry of pain escapes him, and Wilbur's fingers dig into his skull, harsh and punishing.

_ "Wil!" _ someone cries in horror, and Tubbo distantly registers it as Niki.

"Citizens of Manberg!" Wilbur calls with a frenzied laugh. "Or whatever the hell you're calling yourselves these days. This festival is lovely! Ah, it's just incredible..." Another laugh escapes him. "And to think I wasn't invited! Your founder!"

"Wilbur," Tubbo gasps, attempting to squirm out of his grasp.

Wilbur yanks his head back up, finally looking him in the eyes. Tubbo nearly recoils at what he's met with, because this man can't possibly be Wilbur Soot. His face is completely sunken, dark eyebags standing out against pale, sickly skin. Chapped lips are spread into a wide grin, dangerous and almost inhuman. His greasy hair hangs lifeless around him, nothing more than a dirtied mop.

"And Tubbo!" Wilbur exclaims, eyes glinting with insanity. "What a brilliant speech! Ha, man, I had no idea what an orator you really are." His grip on his hair tightens, and he pulls him under his arm. "Can we get a round of applause? Come on, give this kid a cheer! He's done so bloody well, hasn't he?"

No one reacts, the looks of terror on their faces matching the horror blooming in Tubbo's chest. Wilbur's mouth instantly curls into a snarl, and he yells, "Are you fucking ungrateful? Are you all fucking ungrateful?!"

Tubbo feels the knife press against his throat just as someone lets out a scream. "I said," Wilbur shouts again, "A round of applause!"

"Wilbur, get off that stage," Schlatt orders. He's stepped closer toward the stage, Quackity hanging onto his arm. Tubbo briefly manages to meet the vice's gaze, and he sees the fear in his wide eyes. "Get down before I make someone take you out."

"Take me out?" Wilbur begins cackling once again, slapping the podium with his free hand. "That's hilarious! Guys, that's hilarious. Who knew your president was such a comedian? You know much about impromptu, Schlatt?"

"Wilbur, get the fuck down."

"You give me a scenario, and I'll act it out!" Wilbur rambles on like he hadn't heard anything. "See, I can be funny too. I'm a real funny guy. I'm funny, aren't I, Tubbo? So funny, I should've been made president!"

Tubbo doesn't dare to respond. Wilbur's raving like a lunatic anyways, his words rapidly losing meaning the more he goes on.

"C'mon, c'mon, anyone in the crowd? Any suggestions? Throw it at me! Throw it, I'll do it!"

"Someone get him," Schlatt barks out. "Holy fuck, do we not have any security-"

"Okay, okay, I'll give myself a scenario!" Wilbur shoves Tubbo aside then, spreading his arms out in a grand flourish. Tubbo falls back onto the stage, and that's when he sees the detonator clutched tightly in the man's hand. "How about... Ahaha, how about the revolution? You guys remember that? When I led this fucking country in battle and gave us our independence?!"

"Tubbo!" a new voice screams, and racing toward the stage from behind the crowd, Tubbo spots  _ Tommy _ . His netherite sword is drawn, his armor gleaming in the setting sunlight. He looks every bit the hero come to save the day.

"Tommy fucking Innit!" Wilbur points a finger at him with another terrible laugh, and Tommy stumbles to a halt on the outskirts of the stands. "You're here! We've got everyone now, haven't we? I'm sure  _ you _ remember. Don't you remember? When Dream blew our precious L'manberg to smithereens?"

"Wilbur, stop it!" Tommy cries.  _ "Tubbo!" _

"What the hell is going on?" Schlatt demands, his voice coming out in an angry roar.

Tubbo reaches into his pocket, fingers closing around the ender pearl hidden there.

"Let me give you a little reminder of that!" Wilbur holds the detonator sky high. "Because you know what, Schlatt? If I can't have Manberg,  _ no one can _ !"

_ "TUBBO!" _

Tubbo hurls the pearl toward the white house.

"Someone stop him!"

The stage explodes.

*****

Three things happen at once:

1\. Tubbo's pearl connects with solid land, and in a rush that feels like his body is being turned inside out, he's messily deposited outside the white house.

2\. Quackity seizes Schlatt's arm and books it just as rubble begins to rain down onto the screaming audience.

3\. Wilbur Soot's body hits the ground, limbs jutting at an angle no human body was ever meant to bend at. He doesn't move, and he never moves ever again.

*****

"What the fuck. What the fuck!" Schlatt is yelling as Quackity pulls him away, racing for the white house and dragging the president after him. "Where the hell are you taking me?!"

"We need to get you to safety!" he exclaims over the shouting of the crowd. Smoke hangs thick in the air, the smell of it clogging his senses. "Wilbur Soot just set off a fucking  _ bomb _ , who knows what else will happen?"

"How the fuck did Wilbur Soot get a bomb into my festival?!"

Quackity yanks him up the hill, stumbling on the rough terrain. His heart is pounding so hard, he's sure it's about to leap straight from his chest. Everything had happened so fast, he'd barely had time to react. There's nothing beyond this moment, beyond the next step and the next, just him and the president and the broken, wailing world.

He hasn't seen Tubbo since the explosion. He tries not to dwell on it, doesn't have time to dwell on it, but the longer he goes without spotting the familiar mess of brown hair, the more the knot in his stomach tightens. No, Tubbo is okay. He has to be okay. Quackity just needs to focus on getting inside the white house.

Schlatt abruptly stops in his tracks, forcing Quackity to a halt as well. "Look me in the eyes," the president snaps, "And tell me what the  _ fuck _ is going on!"

"Honestly, sir?" Quackity replies. "I've got no clue."

_ "Mr. President!" _

Quackity's heart skips a beat as he hears the familiar voice, and he whirls around to see Tubbo running toward them, frantically waving his arms.  _ He's okay _ . The boy is panting heavily, and he doubles over as he reaches them, gasping for breath.

"Tubbo?!" Schlatt's eyes go wide as saucers. "How the hell-"

"I had a pearl on me," the kid manages out. "Was trying to escape just as the bomb went off."

Schlatt's still staring at him, clearly dumbfounded, and Quackity hurriedly urges him along. "We've gotta go. That Tommy guy's still here, he's probably coming for us."

"Come on, Mr. President!" Tubbo grabs his hand, and apparently Schlatt trusts the kid enough to let him lead them the short remaining distance to the white house.

Quackity throws open the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind them. He wipes his sweaty palms on his suit jacket, tries to compose himself and hide the way he can't stop shaking.  _ Holy shit _ . They had planned tirelessly for hours for this, but now that he's actually here and it's all happening, he feels completely overwhelmed.

"Come on, come on, let's get to your office," Tubbo tugs him along, fear thickly coating his voice. Quackity isn't sure how much of it is real and how much is just acting.

Every hasty step brings them closer and closer to the final moment. This is what they've been working for, what they've been waiting for. The position of president is so close, Quackity can practically taste it. His hand moves to grip the hilt of his sword, clutching it tightly in his trembling hands. Tubbo rushes Schlatt into his office, and Quackity enters last, shutting it once they're all safely inside. Well, 'safely' is probably the wrong word to use, given the circumstances.

Now that they've got a moment to catch their breath, Schlatt whirls to face them. "Now can someone  _ please _ tell me what the hell just happened?!"

"Umm," Tubbo says. "I think Wilbur Soot just blew up our stage."

"Well," Schlatt replies flatly. "I can see that, Tubbo! I'm not blind!" He begins to pace back and forth, scuffed up shoes tapping sharply against the floorboards. The usually composed president is unraveling before their eyes, his suit torn and skin covered in ash. "But how the everloving fuck did Wilbur plant bombs on my festival grounds?! He shouldn't have even known this shitty event existed!"

"Someone must've told him." Tubbo gives a nonchalant shrug.

Schlatt stops short, turning his head to shoot the kid a harsh glare. "What the hell is that supposed to-" he cuts himself off like a broken record, and Quackity registers the exact moment the man realizes what's really going on.

"Sir?" Tubbo asks with perfectly practiced innocence.

That's when Schlatt starts to laugh. He leans back against his desk and drags a hand through his hair, staring at the two through half lidded eyes. "Oh, this is real good. This is real fucking good, isn't it?" his voice is manic, not unlike Wilbur's had been before he'd blown himself to bits. It's the voice of a man who knows he's lost everything, who knows he's hit game over.

Quackity draws his sword.

"I mean, Quackity I could totally see this coming from," Schlatt continues, another ugly laugh escaping him. He wipes his eyes, paying the vice president no mind. "But Tubbo? Really, you?"

"It's over, Schlatt." Tubbo plants himself in front of the door, the only escape from the room.

"So what was your plan? Let Wilbur drop a few bombs and then whisk me away to kill me? How long have you been working with our enemies?"

"Trust me, we're not on Pogtopia's side at all." Quackity takes a careful step forward, shifting the sword in his hands. "We'll take care of those terrorists, don't you worry."

Schlatt's crazed cackles just grow louder, washing the room in a flood. He looks up at the ceiling, body wracked with a shudder. Quackity steps closer, now poised to strike, but hesitation freezes him in place.

"C'mon, do it," Tubbo whispers, a hint of nervousness in his tone.

"Look at me," Quackity snaps. Not at Tubbo- no, his eyes are locked on Schlatt, frustration swelling in his chest. Even now, as he stands ready to kill him, the president can't give him the time of day. It pisses him off beyond belief, and he knows he should just run him right through with his sword, but he  _ needs _ this. He needs Schlatt to acknowledge him, needs him to admit just how much better Quackity is than him.

Schlatt's gaze doesn't shift from the ceiling. "Oh, Quackity," he says, pity dripping from his words. "You're not in charge around here, and you never will be."

Bright, raw, unhinged anger lights a fire in Quackity's heart, and he lunges forward with a snarl. The only thing running through his head is how much he wants to shut Schlatt up forever, how much he wants to watch him bleed out at his hands. But almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for this the whole time, Schlatt reacts, aiming a hard kick to his stomach. Quackity stumbles back, stunned, and the other man hits him again, sending him reeling to the ground. His sword clatters nearby, just out of reach.

"Quackity!" Tubbo screams over the ringing in his ears.

Schlatt is laughing again, standing over him with his arms spread wide. "And you really thought this would work?! You thought you could take me out?  _ You _ , Quackity? The most useless Vice President in the whole fucking world! With help from who,  _ Tubbo _ ?" He slams a foot down on Quackity's wrist, and harsh pain immediately sparks from the bone as he hears something snap. An agonized cry pulls itself from his lips, vision washed in red.

_ "Quackity!" _ another scream from Tubbo, he thinks. He can't really tell anymore- the world has melted away, replaced by burning, blinding pain.

"You'll never be  _ shit _ ," Schlatt taunts, leaning down to leer at him with a wide, frenzied grin.

"Get off him!" Tubbo shouts, and suddenly the weight of Schlatt's shoe is removed. Tubbo's thrown himself against the president, knocking them both over and sending them sprawling across the wooden floors with a startling crash. A yelp sounds from the boy as another sickening crunch fills the room, and the noise is enough to make Quackity ignore his throbbing wrist and hurriedly push himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily.

Schlatt had struck Tubbo right in the face, the kid's nose bloodied and crooked. He's holding a hand protectively against it, furious tears streaking his cheeks. The president seizes him by the hair, bashing his head against the ground. Tubbo cries out, and Schlatt snarls, "Don't fucking touch me! Who do you think you are?!"

Tubbo thrashes in his grip, attempting to free himself. He lashes out with his freed arm, and Schlatt grunts as it connects with his throat. The president gags, promptly releasing him, and the boy instantly scrambles away, turning and pressing his back against the desk.

"You little piece of sh-" Schlatt reaches out to grab him again, but Quackity is already there, slamming a foot against his back and knocking him onto the floor once more. He presses his full weight down on him, ignoring the man's pained gasps. Tubbo stares up at him with wide eyes, panting heavily. 

"Hurting him was the last mistake you'll ever make," Quackity tells the president darkly, holding out the only hand he can still move. 

Tubbo immediately understands what he wants, and he retrieves the sword from where it had fallen, passing it to his friend. Quackity's fingers curl around the hilt, and he lifts the weapon up. This time, he feels no hesitation, just a burning sense of the justice he's owed.

Schlatt turns his head to look at him, a long grin spreading across his face. "I'll see you in hell, Quackity," he wheezes out, and Quackity brings the sword down.


	12. better to reign in hell than serve in heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's the second moment you've probably all been waiting for >:)
> 
> AH, I've been absolutely blown away (no pun intended) by all the reactions to the last chapter!! I'm so glad you all enjoyed, it was a very hard chapter to write :P <333
> 
> I'm actually pretty sure chapter 13 will be the last one in this fic...? That's a bit crazy to think about. Thank you all so much for all your support and comments :DD <3 have a fantastic day!
> 
> (and depending on where the SMP goes... I may feel inclined/inspired to write a sequel. mayhaps)

_ fifteen minutes ago _

Tommy knows something is wrong when he sees Tubbo sprawled across the stage, staring up at Wilbur without making a move to stop him. This wasn't anything like how their plan was supposed to be going- was Tubbo already defeated? He doesn't know where the hell Technoblade is, doesn't know if he's even here at the festival. In fact, he'd only just arrived himself- just in time to find Wilbur onstage and the plan going to shit.

"Tommy fucking Innit!" Wilbur yells, pointing at him. The detonator is in his hands.

"Tubbo!" Tommy screams.

And then the stage explodes.

Tommy is knocked off his feet from the force of the blast, hitting the ground with a loud grunt. His ears are ringing, his vision blurry with smoke, and as he blinks groggily up at the darkening sky he registers the distant sound of screaming.

But he was... alive? Why the hell was he alive? Not that he was complaining- it just didn't add up. Wilbur had detonated the bombs, and the bombs were planted all over the festival. Logically, that meant he should definitely be dead right now.

As he picks himself unsteadily to his feet, though, he sees that isn't the case at all. In fact, most of the stands seem unharmed. The stage, however, is a massive smoking crater in the ground, rubble scattered across the blast radius. Breath catching in his throat, Tommy limps forward, eyes frantically darting around in search of an answer. In search of  _ Tubbo. _

People are scattered all around, some hurrying away from the scene and others attempting to help the more injured. Nobody spares him a second glance as he breaks into a run for the stage, heart pounding in time with his footsteps. "Tubbo!" he screams, voice hoarse. "Wilbur!" The smoke chokes him up, sending him into a coughing fit as he reaches the hole caused by the explosion.

And that's when he sees it.

_ Wilbur _ . It's Wilbur, he thinks, a surge of relief blooming in his chest. He's laying across the rubble, limbs splayed out around him. "Wilbur!" The cry of joy escapes his lips as he rushes over, because he's  _ okay _ , it's okay, he's found Wilbur and it's okay-

Tommy falls to his knees beside him, grabbing his hand. "C'mon, Wilbur, get up, we gotta go- oh, what the fuck is happening?! What did you do?!"

Wilbur doesn't respond.

"Wilbur!" Frantically, he shakes the man, nervously glancing about. Any minute now someone might come and arrest them, and they still need to find Tubbo-

Wilbur's not moving.

"Tommy!" The familiar voice of Niki cries, and he senses her presence at his side, though he doesn't look up at her.

"Niki, thank god," he gasps out, "Come on, we need to get Wilbur somewhere safe. Where's Tubbo, have you seen Tubbo-"

"Tommy, what's going on?" Her words are wracked with a sob. She's crying. Why is she crying? They don't have time for that, they need to move.

"Wilbur, come on!" Tommy seizes him by the shoulders, jostling him again. "Come on, get up!"

"Tommy," Niki whimpers.

"Get up!" Tommy screams, panic overtaking him. He slams his fist against Wilbur's chest, then hits him again, and again and again and again. "WILBUR!"

"Tommy! Tommy,  _ stop it _ ." Niki tries to grab his arms, but he yanks himself away from her with another scream.

The world blurs around him, tears smarting at his vision. He collapses over Wilbur's body, burying his face into his jacket. It smells like smoke and ash, so terrible and wrong. "Please, get up," he begs, all rationality too far gone from this horrible, horrible moment. "Please please please please please Wilbur I can't- I can't-"

His brother in everything but blood is deathly silent.

_ "WILBUR!" _ Tommy's awful, ugly wail fills the ruins of the stage.

Niki drops down beside him and gathers him in his arms. He tries to pull away again, fingers digging into Wilbur's shirt, refusing to budge. He can't leave him. He can't leave him, Wilbur's all he has, he can't he can't he can't he can't

He sobs brokenly into Wilbur's chest while Niki shakily cards her fingers through his hair. She's crying too, and he feels the way her body trembles pressed against his own. Every second that passes by he half expects Wilbur to suck in a gasp of air, to sit back up, to pull them both into a tight hug and reassure them he's alright. But he doesn't, even as Tommy's wet tears stain his shirt and the world burns around them.

And usually Tommy is brave. He's reckless, he's annoying, and he's always ready for a fight. Here, though, he isn't. He's just a child who needs his brother to wake up. He needs this nightmare to end.

"We need to go," Niki whispers, holding him tighter. "Tommy, we need to go."

"Why won't he get up?" Tommy asks, finally looking up at the girl and her soot streaked face. "Niki, w-why- why-"

"Tommy." She gently tugs him away from Wilbur and further into her arms. No, nonono he has to stay with Wilbur- He reaches back out for his brother. Niki's grip is stone-like, though, and he's too weak to really fight back. So instead he melts against her, allowing her to rub his back and murmur soothing words into his ear. Distantly, he thinks he should be comforting her, too. But he can't, he can't be strong right now.

"We need to go," she says again, quieter this time.

"We can't leave him," he gasps out.

"Tommy. Tommy, he's  _ dead _ ."

Some traitorous part of him had known this, of course. But just hearing her say it out loud makes it real, too real, and it hits him all at once that Wilbur Soot is dead. Wilbur is dead, Tubbo's probably dead, and he's just lost both his brothers in such a short span of time. Another guttural sob explodes from him, and he wants nothing more than to sink back against Niki, blindly desperate for any source of comfort.

But now isn't the time for comfort. No, right now, he's in the middle of enemy territory, and  _ someone had just killed Wilbur _ . The agonizing sorrow in his chest churns and morphs into something new: anger, lighting in his chest with a burning vengeance. Someone had killed Wilbur. Someone was going to pay for that. He was going to make them pay.

He finally pulls away from Niki, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. "Niki, where's Tubbo?"

"I- I don't know, I didn't see..." Niki's wide, teary eyes stare up at him, and she hugs her arms against her chest. "Tommy, what's happening?"

"I need to find him," Tommy grits out.

"Tommy-"

"I- I need to find him, I can't leave until I know he's okay!" Tommy cries, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I can't leave until I kill whoever the fuck murdered Wilbur!"

"Tommy, you can't!" Niki's expression takes on a look of terror. "We can find Tubbo, I swear we will, but this isn't worth it-"

Tommy bends down and picks his sword off the ground, shifting the weight in his hands. "Schlatt," he says, a dark hatred filling his words. Yes, Schlatt, it had to be Schlatt. Schlatt had killed Wilbur. The festival had been a trap- somehow he'd known they were coming. That  _ monster _ had killed his brother.

"W-what?"

Tommy's gaze turns to the white house. "I'll be back, Niki."

_ "Tommy!" _

He's already stalking off, the world melting away save for his new mission. He can't think about Wilbur's broken corpse, he can't think about how Tubbo might be dead somewhere amidst the rubble, and he can't think about Niki. If he does, he might falter, he might lose himself to grief again. No, instead, he lets his anger sweep him away, lets it carry him up the hill to the white house door.

It's all he has left.

*****

"You did it," Tubbo breathes, barely daring to believe it.

His entire face is throbbing, and he's certain his nose must be broken. But Schlatt's still, bloody corpse on the ground is worth it all, worth every hit he'd taken. Holy shit. They had done it, Quackity had done it- they'd killed the president.

It was over.

Quackity falls to his knees, the sword dropping from his hand. He's breathing heavily, and Tubbo watches the adrenaline fade from his eyes. "We did it," his friend echoes, staring at the body before them.

There's a few moments of silence as they revel in the victory, and then Quackity turns to face him. "Are you okay?" he asks, scanning the injuries on his face. "He-"

"I'm fine," Tubbo hurriedly reassures him. "B-but, your wrist! Let me..." Fumbling slightly, he reaches out and gently takes the injured limb in his hands.

Quackity sucks in a sharp breath, wincing visibly, and Tubbo quickly pulls away. "S-sorry."

"No, it's alright," his friend replies through gritted teeth. "Gonna have to get that looked at."

"I'm sorry," Tubbo says again. "I should've..." He should've what? Been stronger, been faster, reacted quicker before his friend had been hurt?

"Oh, come on, don't apologize," Quackity scoffs with a small grin. "You weren't the one who broke my fucking wrist. That guy's dead in front of us. Dead as hell."

"Dead," Tubbo repeats. "Holy shit. He's dead. Quackity, we killed the president."

"Hell yeah, we did."

Tubbo starts to laugh then, though it makes his ribs ache, and Quackity joins in. His friend rests his head on Tubbo's shoulder, releasing a long sigh, and Tubbo closes his eyes, another breathy chuckle escaping him. What a sorry sight they make- two boys in torn suits, skin covered in ash and bodies riddled with bruises. But they're alive, and they're  _ together _ , and that's all that matters.

At least, it's all that matters until Tommy's voice exclaims, "Tubbo?"

Tubbo eyes snap back open to see the boy standing in the doorway. He's gripping a sword in one hand, his other arm clutching at his torso as if he's in pain. His face is streaked with dirt and tears, his hair an awful mess. He looks like he's just been through hell and back- and Tubbo figures he probably has.

As he meets his gaze, Tommy's lips tug upward in a disbelieving smile. "Holy shit," he whispers. "You're alive. Y-you're... you're alive."

"Tommy," Tubbo breathes, heart catching in his throat.

Then Tommy's eyes fall to Quackity huddled at his side, to the body on the floor. The smile almost immediately drops off his face. "W-what... Schlatt...? Big Q? What the fuck- What happened here?!"

"We killed him," Quackity answers, picking himself to his feet. Tubbo hurriedly scrambles to stand at his side.

"You-  _ what? _ " Tommy stares at him incredulously, eyes briefly flickering to Tubbo. "What's all... What did you..." Whatever confusion he'd been feeling swiftly vanishes, though, as he points his sword at Quackity. "Actually, I don't give a fuck. If I can't kill Schlatt, I'll just have to kill the next best thing."

"The fuck?" Quackity exclaims, taking a short step backward.

"Manberg took something from me, so I'll take something from you!" Tommy snarls, lunging across the room.

Tubbo doesn't hesitate. He throws himself in front of Quackity, positioning his body as a human shield. "No!" he shouts, and Tommy just barely stops himself in time to keep from skewering him.

"Tubbo, move!" Tommy orders sharply, and Tubbo nearly recoils from the hatred written in bright red marker across his friend's face.

"Stop it!"

"They killed Wilbur!"

"Quackity didn't!" Tubbo spits the truth out in a rush of adrenaline. "I moved the TNT beneath the stage!"

Tommy freezes, his jaw dropping. The sword wavers in his hands, and he whispers, "Why are you covering for him? Just... just get out of the way."

"It was all my plan!" Tubbo doesn't move, doesn't dare to.

"Stop lying to me!"

"It was all me!" He jabs a finger at Tommy's chest, and all the bitterness and resentment he's been festering for the past week, all the words and feelings he's been keeping caged inside him, finally explodes. "And it was so easy, Tommy! So easy to get you to do exactly what I wanted, to help me kill Wilbur-"

_ "Shut up!" _ Before Tubbo's very eyes, Tommy's bravado crumbles into nothing. His former friend staggers back as if he'd been struck, and Tubbo barks a laugh at the sight. "What the fuck are you saying?!"

"I used you, Tommy!" Tubbo spreads his hands out in a grand flourish. "I used you the same as you've always used me. How's that feel? How do you like it now?"

"W-what?" Tommy cries. Quackity stays completely silent, watching the exchange. "T-Tubbo, stop it! This isn't funny!"

"Oh, I think it's hilarious," Tubbo returns with a wide grin, stepping closer. "You know why? Because for once, it's a joke at your expense and not mine! You underestimated me for the last time."

"This isn't happening," Tommy whispers, and Tubbo wonders if he's already lost it. "This isn't... this can't... Tubbo, you- there's no way-"

"No way what?" Tubbo's lips curl into a scowl. "No way someone like me could pull off something like this?"

"N-no, you-"

"Wake up, Tommy!" Tubbo snaps his fingers, and the sound makes Tommy flinch. "It's happening! You thought you were the one above it all, and you were so  _ fucking _ wrong! And the best part is that you're still falling for it. Look at yourself!"

"Stop it," Tommy gasps out, taking another step back.

Tubbo keeps walking, feet unfaltering. "Kill me, Tommy! Run me right through!" Another sick laugh escapes him, and he holds up his hands in a mock act of surrender. "Admit it: I'm not lying! Admit just how wrong you were about me!"

"Tubbo," Quackity says uncertainly. "Back away-"

Why the hell would he back away? Why would he be afraid of  _ Tommy _ ? Tommy can't do anything to hurt him- he's so much more than Tommy could ever have imagined. No, Tommy should be scared of  _ him _ . Tubbo seizes his former friend by the shirt collar, yanking him down to his height. "Come on, Tommy!" he hisses in his ear. "Be the hero! Kill the bad guy!"

Tommy shoves him away with a strangled cry. Tubbo's sent reeling to the floor, laughing as his back connects with the floorboards. "You're a traitor!" Tommy shouts, but the anger in his voice has been replaced by unmeasurable sorrow. "You- you-"

"I killed Wilbur." Tubbo throws his head back as another cackle escapes him, and the sound melts into a sob. What... why is he crying? He shouldn't be crying. He'd won. "I won," he says out loud, as if it would solidify the fact. Tommy's figure blurs with his tears anyways.

"What's wrong with you?!" Tommy's words are broken. He looks horrified, horrified at the sight before him. ...at Tubbo?

Maybe he should be horrified. Horrified of what he's become. What  _ was _ wrong with him? Tubbo had started this in order to take down Schlatt, but instead, he'd become just as bad as him. Somewhere along the road, he'd taken too many wrong turns, and it wasn't about saving Manberg anymore. It was about Tommy, it was about revenge, it was about power. It was about doing whatever it took so he could feel strong.

He's glad Tommy is horrified. At least one of them still has the capacity to be.

"Just do it," Tubbo says, staring up at the ceiling. What's left for him beyond this moment anyways? Maybe it's better for him to die here before he becomes something worse than he already is. Everything hurts- emotionally, physically, mentally. He's tired. He wants to keep gloating forever. He wants to take a nap. "Kill me, and then you'll have to remember for the rest of your life that it was  _ me _ . It was me that took everything from you."

"H-hey!" Quackity exclaims. "Don't-"

Tommy lifts his sword into the air. Tubbo meets his eyes with a frenzied grin. So this was it, then. He thinks maybe he should feel scared, but he doesn't- just strangely relived.  _ Sorry, Quackity. I wish we could've had our future. _

"No," Tommy abruptly says, and the world stops turning. "No. I- I can't." His voice cracks, and he whispers, "You're  _ Tubbo _ . You're my best friend. I can't- I can't-"

The sword falls from his hands, landing uselessly on the floor. Quackity immediately has his own sword pointed at Tommy's throat, kicking the other boy's weapon a safe distance away. "Get on the ground," his friend orders, "Hands behind your head!"

Tommy complies without protest. He sinks to his knees, body wracked with a loud, helpless sob. "I can't..." he whimpers, shaking his head frantically. "I don't care anymore."

He doesn't look like a big, bad manipulator anymore, not like this. He looks like a scared sixteen year old boy who'd just lost everything he'd been fighting for. Some foreign part of Tubbo wants to reach out to comfort him. But he isn't that Tubbo anymore, the Tubbo who would've done anything to see his best friend smile. Now he's the Tubbo who wants to revel in his misery.

"Where's Techno?" Quackity demands. Straight to business.

"I don't know," Tommy whispers. "I don't think he came."

"Shit. Great, another thing to worry about," the vice mutters. No- he's not the vice anymore. Quackity's the president of Manberg now. Schlatt's bloody body on the ground is a testament to that fact.

And Tubbo... Vice President was Tubbo's new title. He'd earned it, they both had. And even though this all felt so wrong, it also felt so  _ right _ . The sick thrill lingers in his chest as he pushes himself to his feet, coming up to stand at Quackity's side.

"Tommy Innit," Quackity announces, a firm and steady rock against the uncertainties of the world. "You're under arrest for the bombing of the Manberg Unity Festival and the assassination of President Schlatt."

Tommy curls in on himself against the floor. It's a truly pathetic sight, the mighty hero brought down to his knees before them. It's all Tubbo's wanted this past week, all he's been waiting for.

So why does he feel so empty?

When it comes to power, nothing will ever be enough. It's a drug keeping you coming back for more and more. Tubbo had watched it consume Quackity, and now it was consuming him too. The triumph that had been filling him was gone, leaving him desperate to feel it again. He wants it so bad, it makes his chest ache, makes him feel like he's trapped underwater and running out of air. It  _ hurts _ , hurts worse than any injury or beating he'd taken today.

And long after Tommy is safely detained, long after Wilbur and Schlatt's bodies have been buried underground, long after Quackity is announced as Manberg's new president, long after the moon had risen in the starry expanse of sky- Tubbo stands alone in his new, empty office, and he weeps for what he'll never have.

But he's not alone, not anymore. Quackity silently takes a seat beside him on the cold, hard floor and pulls him into his arms, holding him until his tears subside. His friend seems exhausted, chin rested snugly on his head and eyes securely closed. Tubbo can feel his body trembling against his own.

"It's awful," Tubbo whispers.

"I know," Quackity replies quietly.

"I don't regret it."

Quackity exhales, long and weary. "Good. We earned this."

They fall asleep together there, resting easy in the comfort of each other's presence, too tired to move and too lonely to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techno said "you know what? I am gonna leave"


	13. on the other side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally have all they ever wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well..... this is it. I'll get right to it :P

Tubbo's perfectly shined shoes thud lightly against the cobble stairs. The sound alerts the sole occupant of the cell to the presence of a visitor, and he lifts his head slightly to get a look. His dull eyes immediately narrow as he meets Tubbo's gaze, the Vice President coming to a stop in front of the bars separating them, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Tubbo?"

"Hi, Tommy," Tubbo replies with a small grin.

"Come to gloat?" Tommy mutters, resting his chin on his knees once more. His legs are drawn against his chest, and he's huddled in the corner of the small, barren cell. It's almost embarrassing to look at- just how absolutely pathetic he is, just what he's been reduced to.

"No, I just wanted to check on you," Tubbo says warmly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"Ha. As if," Tommy scoffs. "We both know how you really feel about me, so don't play this off as a friendly visit."

"Heh... you're right. I just thought it might be nice to pretend." Tubbo releases a long exhale, peering at him through the bars. His former friend glares right back.

"You're pretty ballsy to show your face around here," Tommy scowls. "After pinning all your dirty crimes on me and dumping me here."

"You should be glad!" Tubbo smiles down at him. "You're still being useful to me, even here."

"Oh, shut up," Tommy snarls with a sudden burst of venom. "How can you live with yourself?! You killed Wilbur! You betrayed us!"

Tubbo winces at the reminder of Wilbur- the one thing that's really been gnawing away at him over the week. The man had been his friend once, in some ways an older brother. And even though he'd been one of the many to use and mistreat Tubbo, he had still once meant something to him. Memories carry weight, whether they're good or bad ones.

"Wilbur killed himself," Tubbo mumbles. A poor attempt to justify it, and both of them know that.

"Oh, shut up," Tommy says again, curling his lip in disgust. "You were so proud of it when we last spoke. Are you finally starting to feel guilty? I hope it keeps you up at night for the rest of your fucking life."

"I don't have anything to feel guilty about."

"You're a traitor!" Tommy cries, slamming his fists against the ground. "How could you, Tubbo? How could you do it?!" Tubbo can see the tears building in his former friend's eyes, and the familiar sick thrill erupts in his chest.  _ Yes _ , this is what he'd come here for- to remind himself of his victory, to soak up the remaining shreds of how powerful he'd felt the night of the festival.

"Are you going to cry, Tommy? Really?" Tubbo taunts with a short laugh, mockingly wiping his eyes.

"You were like my brother!" Tommy shouts, his voice breaking on the word. "I  _ loved _ you!"

"Oh, Tommy," Tubbo says sadly, stepping forward to wrap his fingers around the cold prison bars. "I loved you too. I would've done anything for you..." he shakes his head, giving a low chuckle. "But that was before I knew just what I was worth."

"You're worth fucking nothing," Tommy spits out. "You're a liar and a traitor. I  _ hate _ you, and I'll never fucking forgive you."

Tubbo doesn't doubt it. "Good to know the feeling's mutual."

All at once, Tommy's voice loses its fire, the flames doused by an unknown source. "Whatever," he mutters, closing his eyes. "Get out of here. I can't even look at you."

Somewhat disappointed, Tubbo sighs and steps away from the bars, straightening his tie. "Bye, Tommy. Don't have too much fun without me."

Tommy doesn't say anything, and it's not until he's halfway up the stairs that he calls, "Tubbo?"

Tubbo freezes, poised to continue. "Yeah?"

"When I get out of here- and I will-," Tommy says, and his words send a shiver down Tubbo's spine. "I'm not going to hesitate. I'll fucking kill you. That's a promise."

A small smile flickers across Tubbo's lips. There's his Tommy, always ready for vengeance. "I'll hold you to it," he says over his shoulder before continuing on his way once again, the threat left to linger and rot in the air.

*****

The warmth of Niki's bakery always sets Quackity at ease. As he enters the building, his shoulders relax, and he feels a weight lift off his chest. Here, he's not the president of Manberg or the guy who killed Schlatt. He's just Quackity, here to enjoy the company of his friends and the best damn pastries in the country.

Niki gives him a smile and a wave as she registers his presence. The haunted look she's had from since the festival still lingers in her eyes, no matter how far her lips curl upward. Maybe she's acting normal now, but Quackity knows she carries with her the horrors she went through at the festival, and she won't shake them anytime soon. Quackity briefly imagines what it must've been like to see Wilbur's body up close, then decides he's glad he was spared the sight.

Tubbo's already here, seated at a table near the counter. He's absentmindedly tracing shapes against the wood, seeming like he's not even here in the moment. He doesn't look anything like the Tubbo from the night of the festival- the Tubbo who had fallen to the ground and laughed in the face of the boy he'd betrayed, the Tubbo with the manic glint in his eyes, the Tubbo that Quackity couldn't help but be scared of himself. Right now, he looks more like a ghost than anything else.

"Hey, big T," Quackity says brightly, plopping himself down in the seat across from him. "Man, I'm starved. Also, I'm exhausted. Who knew there was so much fucking paperwork to do as president... it was so much easier back when all I had to do was have a fat ass."

Tubbo laughs a bit, and the sound lets Quackity know that he's still in there; the Tubbo who'd become like a little brother to him, the Tubbo he'd gone cloudwatching with, the Tubbo he wanted to protect. He's not so far gone, and maybe Quackity can still reel him back in before he goes over the edge.

He feels like part of it is his fault. After all, he'd been the one to prompt Tubbo into being a triple agent for him. This had been his plan from the start. But he hadn't expected himself to get so attached to the kid, and he definitely hadn't expected the terrifying spiral Tubbo would go down. Sometimes, Quackity can't help but wonder if Tubbo would've been better off if he'd stayed far away from him. It's too late for that now.

But maybe now that it's over, they can be normal again. After all, Quackity had promised him a bright future, and he was determined to deliver. Starting here, in Niki's bakery, surrounded by happy memories and good friends.

"Fresh out of the oven," Niki calls in a sing-song, joining them at their table before depositing two plates of warm pastries. "Only the best for my president and vice," she adds teasingly.

"Have I ever told you that you're the best?" Quackity asks, immediately digging in.

"On a few occasions," Niki chuckles, watching him eat.

Tubbo doesn't touch his pastries. He's gone back to staring down at the table, that distant look in his eyes returning. It's at times like this that Quackity thinks maybe he'd broken the boy, wonders if he'd ever be able to repair the damage. Niki seems to notice something's off about the mood, and a small frown tugs at her lips.

Quackity decides to speak up. "Hey, Tubs, you good?"

Tubbo looks up abruptly, blinking. "Oh. Yeah, sorry. Just thinking." He pauses, and Quackity gives him time. "I visited Tommy," he finally says, averting his eyes.

Niki straightens a bit at that. When Tommy's arrest and charges had first been announced, she'd refused to believe it. She'd begged Quackity and Tubbo to give him a chance to explain, pleaded with them that Tommy would never do something like plot a bombing and an assassination. Eventually, though, she had given up and accepted it. After all, why would Tubbo lie about something like that?

(Quackity hopes she never finds out the truth. He doesn't want Tubbo to lose anyone else he cares about.)

"What'd he have to say?" Quackity is nothing if not nosy, though he knows that Tubbo knows that if he doesn't want to answer, he doesn't have to. He'd never make him do anything he doesn't want to do.

"He said he'd kill me," Tubbo replies nonchalantly, poking at his pastry.

Niki sucks in a short breath, and her eyes narrow. "I can't believe..." she mutters, mostly to herself, then sets a hand on Tubbo's shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't think about him. What an awful, awful thing to say..."

"He won't hurt you," Quackity promises, and he means it. If that kid came anywhere near Tubbo, he'd do whatever it took to protect him. If only so Tubbo doesn't have to do it himself, doesn't have to lose another piece of himself.

"I know," Tubbo says. "I'm not scared." He smiles then, bright and cheerful. "C'mon, our lunch break doesn't last forever! Let's enjoy it while we have it."

Niki ruffles his hair in response, and he swats at her playfully with another happy laugh. Quackity pushes aside the conversation they'd just had and his own concerns to join them, swiping a pastry off Tubbo's plate to his indignant cry. Soon, the tension has completely melted away, replaced by the hopeful sounds of a peaceful, joyful future.

If this was happily ever after, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

*****

Techno isn't much for rumors and gossip, but word travels fast, and he hears a lot of interesting things about Manberg and its happenings.

He hears that President Schlatt is dead. Killed at the festival after an explosion, apparently.  _ Looks like Wilbur accomplished that much,  _ he thinks, though he doesn't celebrate it.

He hears that that Quackity fellow is the new president. Good for him, Techno doesn't care much either way. Doesn't matter who's in charge as long as he gets to go around and kill people. It's not too hard to satisfy him.

What's strange to hear is that the reason Tommy never returned home to Pogtopia is because he's in prison. Under arrest for the assassination of Schlatt and the bombing of the Manberg festival, people say. Techno doesn't believe it for a second. That poor boy's a scapegoat for some other force at work- there's no way Tommy was a part of the bombing. Killing Schlatt, maybe, but definitely not that. Murder is alright, explosives are a line few can cross.

Oh well. He'll get him out one day, maybe. Go charging through Manberg and swing his axe around until anyone who tries to stop him is a bloody mess. Or maybe he won't. Depends on how he feels that day. Besides, he'd probably have to fight Tubbo if he did that- the kid's the Vice President now, apparently- and Techno knows Tommy would be pissed if he hurt him. (Something about Tubbo's new position rubs Techno the wrong way, but he can't quite place why it feels so off.)

He also hears that Wilbur's dead. Killed in his own explosion. What a crummy way to go out, but the guy probably deserved it. Went pretty batshit toward the end, that Wilbur did. Freaked Techno out a bit, despite how much he loved mass destruction and anarchy.

It's pretty lonely in Pogtopia all by himself.

Techno sits by a dying fire to keep warm, staring up at the canopy of stars watching over him. Maybe he should've gone to the festival. Maybe he would've been able to do something. He didn't have a real excuse of why he'd missed it, anyways. Honestly, he thought he'd just tell Wilbur and Tommy, after it was all over and done with, that he'd slept through it. Now, there was no one left to tell.

(He would never admit it, because he's not supposed to care, but he misses the two boys.)

All he knows is that this isn't Pogtopia's happily ever after. This wasn't the future Wilbur Soot had wanted, it wasn't the future Tommy Innit had been fighting for. Something had gone horribly wrong along the way, and now Techno was the only one left to figure it out and deal with it.

With a long huff, Techno pushes himself to his feet, shifting the weight of his axe in his hands. Well, the rebellion waits for no man. Someone out there had fucked up, and now they'll get the full wrath of Technoblade gunning for them.

Techno grins to himself. Yeah, this'll be real good indeed.

**_the end_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and... it's over! wow. I'm going to drop dead for a long time now :P 
> 
> I've actually never finished a longer fic like this here before, so I'm pretty proud of myself I managed to stick through with it. I literally can't believe how well received this was, and it's completely blown me away and made me a lot happier than I've been in a long time :D I know, gross, don't get sentimental on main, but I really can't express just how much your endless support has meant to me both as a writer and as a person.
> 
> I was stuck for a bit on where and how I should end this (in fact, this end chapter took me three days of stewing over rather than my usual one :P), but I finally decided to leave it pretty open ended. After all, this isn't really an ending for Tubbo, Big Q, and the rest- it's the beginning of a long road ahead. 
> 
> As much as I love the big brother Technoblade, I decided to characterize him more as he is in the actual SMP. The events of the festival didn't affect him too much, but despite his brash attitude, he did care for Wilbur and Tommy deep down :) Whatever course of action he decides to take next is probably a cause for concern for our new president and vice, but we may never know.
> 
> As for Tubbo, his victory is a much hollower one. He hasn't truly won, not yet, and he's desperate to feel that power high again. He probably never will win, because there's no real triumph in what he's done. Quackity has a much more tangible victory, as he's now the president, and he's ready to go about fixing both Schlatt's and his own mistakes. His work isn't over quite yet, and he's more than ready to prove himself to Manberg.
> 
> For the rest of the cast, their reactions are mostly up to interpretation :D (though to be honest, and don't tell anyone I've told you this, but I've been considering writing a more character based sequel about the aftermath of this fic rather than a plot oriented one. top secret information :P) 
> 
> This end note is getting sorta long, but I love to ramble about dumb things, so :P Thank you all so much for sticking through this with me, and for all your kudos and comments and bookmarks. I hope to be writing more Dream SMP stuff in the near future, so maybe I'll see you around :D Have a wonderful week, and please do take care <3


End file.
